Crossing destinies
by barjy02
Summary: AU...Dean is arrested for underground fighting. Haunted by the ghosts of his tortured childhood, he runs away. He will meet a broken man along the way, Castiel, found in his attic after 30 years of abuse. Their encounter will shatter their lives forever. This fic is finished, I'll post one chapter every week. Thanks to my beta, Kiki...
1. The cage

**First and foremost, i'd like to say thank you, from the deepest of my heart, to my beta Kiki who translated all my fic in English (basically it's a french's fic... « A la croisée des destins ») **

**She made a wonderful job here...**

**WARNING**

**Some chapters of this fic could hurt some people. I will put warnings in the beginning of each chapter that could hurt you.**

**Even if this story is considered as a fiction, the locations, situations or universes (like the Cage or the hospital) or characters reactions are used as a fictive story, keep in mind that those kinds of abuse could unfortunately be real. It is actually inspired by a part of my own childhood and some of my friends.**

**Those abuses could happen right now as you're reading these lines. Some of them can't even be expressed out loud, it's taboo. They keep the pain, the shame, the guilt and their victims, children or adults, locked. **

**This reality can exist even right next to you. Please don't stay unconcerned, care for them and for all the people Dean and Cas portray in this story.**

**This fic was very hard for me to begin and often hard to write. It will probably be hard for some of you to read too but I can assure there will be some light and hope in it anyway.**

**This first chapter will be a "soft" introduction.**

**PROLOGUE**

This story takes place somewhere in the north-east of America, in a little town where winters are too cold and summers are too hot. A little town like any other in the world. No addresses, no famous locations because this is not the point of this story. Consider this as a landmark for you and your imagination not be lost, an anchor for the story not to be too far away from the reality.

Even if the story has probably its load of incoherence, keep in mind all stories probably have. Just know that behind those words, the shouts you hear, the pains you perceive won't be fake. As you're reading these lines, more victims shout and cry in silence and in total indifference for most of them. This is a safety for their tormentors.

But what if the victims could speak?

I have such big compassion for them that I couldn't let them die on the side of my road. I've shared some pain with them, we understand each other so well. They are the voice of those who can't speak and suffer in silence. They are fictive characters in these pages but don't forget they can be a reality in the world you're living in, maybe right in your neighborhood. Would you hear them?

Would you fake not listening?

Listen to them. Look at them.

Please.

**CHAPTER 1: THE CAGE**

Pain woke him up. He stood up wincing, holding his ribs out of breathe. He stared at his till bloody but bandaged hands. Those hands full of anger and rage. Cops gave a surprise visit again and here he was in another jail cell. At least this time he didn't have to share it so he could sleep a few hours.

Well… sleep was kind of a euphemism. He couldn't have sleep for years, he usually just dozed. His nights were full of nightmares, legacy of his past. Those faces he was punching several times a month, he was punching so hard.

He was almost 30 and had no hopes for the future. Actually he never had any. His life was only survival. If he was still alive it was because he promised him. Damn promise. More like a gold prison to a dying brother.

"If you knew Sammy…My pain, the death inside my veins, you would never have asked for such a sacrifice from me. Live yeah… but live for what? You're not even here anymore. I'm alone and I just want to die but you have forbidden it to me."

He lived doing poor jobs, just enough to be able to pay for poor motel rooms, as empty as he was, as dark as his tortured soul was.

One day in an alley he fought again, with such blinding rage, but there was a witness this time… Gaby. The guy took care of him, talked to him about "the Cage" and made an offer. Dean had nothing to lose, just rage to spread so he accepted.

The underground fights usually took place in basements, night clubs, warehouses or empty houses. There were no rules, except you can't hit the crotch. As only protection he had bandaged hands to avoid fractures, and something to protect his face. Protecting his teeth was an option. Everything else was allowed. Locked in a cage, they fought in front of a screaming audience exited by blood, holding their money like they'd pay God for those allowed butcheries.

He fell a lot, but he won most of the time. Everybody there called him "Rage". This nickname is now for him like a second nature. He put this most hated face on each of his opponent's face. This face that pursuits him even in his sleep. In the Cage he could at least hit it, damn it… or kill it.

He often found himself riding his opponent's body during a fight, hitting his face and screaming his hate. More than one man is usually needed to separate him from his prey. The hate is sometimes so big tears appear in his crazy eyes. Both anger and pain under one mask.

"Rage" was fascinating, but Gaby was no fool. He knew Dean only hoped for one thing when he was in the Cage: to find a strong opponent who could end all of the pain that eats him every day from the inside.

Dean hated himself.

"Winchester! Get up! The Attorney wants to see you."

Dean breathed deeply. "Frank Deveraux" … he thought as he looked up. He met him when he was first arrested after his fourth fight and since then they meet way too often. He usually warns him and sends him in jail for a few days, and then Dean would start again.

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Frank stood up to hang his coat, and then he sat exhaling loudly. On his desk, the file of Dean Winchester was laying. He opened it with one finger, making himself more comfortable in his big creaking fake leather chair. He just couldn't help, he really wanted to save the guy. He could feel the pain through his perkiness. He knew his past life, his ruined childhood, the hell he grew up in. He really wanted to give him another image of life, other than the one he built for himself.

But to be saved he needed the will to do it, and Dean only wanted to die. He was already dead for so long in a way. Frank gave a look at another file that was laying on his desk… It seems like misery knocks at all doors… maybe if he could make them meet… maybe it would change Dean's mind. One last chance and Dean would lose all of it.

Frank was an old attorney at the end of his career. He already knew who would take his place and this man would certainly have no pity and no will to save Dean. In a few months Frank would be retired and he wanted to leave with this special victory. Those broken destinies…

Someone knocked on the door: the clerk opened it and let a cop enter the room, followed by a young man with his T-shirt full of blood, his jeans and sneakers way too used.

"Thank you Sergeant you can go." Frank said.

"Are you sure sir?" he asked worried.

"Take his handcuffs off and wait outside please."

The cop scowled as he gave a suspicious look at Dean who was staring the attorney without any emotion on his face and he took his handcuffs off before leaving the office.

"Sit down Dean."

He did so, not because he asked him but because he was very tired and in pain. Frank saw it on his face too: wounded eyebrows and lips again. He looked at his bandaged hands:

"Did they call the nurse in charge?" asked Frank.

"Not necessary." Dean said in a hoarse, far and indifferent tone.

"Why Dean? I've found you a nice job, Matt was satisfied with your work and it seems you liked it."

"It wasn't my thing I guess."

"You prefer being locked on that damned cage?" Frank asked angry.

"I do what I want, it's my damned life!" he growled.

"You call that a life? There are other solutions to grieve than punching human beings."

"They are no human beings to me". Dean stated. "This cage is like freedom to me."

"Dean…" Frank whispered.

"Don't try to save what can't be saved sir. Take care about the others who want to be."

"I've never stopped trying Dean, and I haven't waited for you to do it."

"Well you haven't been very efficient then Sir."

Dean touched his sore lips. Frank breathed heavily before getting up and opening the door.

"Get me some first aid kit and pain killers please!" He asked to the cop outside who hesitated a few seconds.

"Now!" He ordered.

"Alright Sir." The cop said taking a look inside the office to see Dean still staring at his hands.

Frank closed the door, his back turned to Dean.

"You can't go on like this, you're going straight to the wall".

"Why the hell would you care?" Dean whispered.

"There are people worrying for you, you know? And I'm one of them whether you like it or not." He turned is back to face him.

"I won't let you down you hear me? Never. I'm not letting your past stealing your whole life. You're young Dean, you still have a future."

"A life? A future?" he repeated almost screaming. "Leave me alone I don't give a damn about your pity. Get the hell off my back!"

Frank stepped forward. "Who's talking about pity? You think you're the only one who suffered? Who lost a loved one? Do you want me to show you some of my cases? You want me to show you misery? You want me to prove that you can actually succeed if you fight for it?"

"I don't care about others you hear me? I-DON'T-CARE!" he yelled standing up. "It is MY life, MY hell, it was MY brother, everybody else can die, I don't want to succeed and get a new life you still haven't understood that?" he finally let it out loud.

Their looks met, Dean was almost crying but he was keeping it inside as strong as he could, too proud to let go. He sat down scowling.

There was a knock on the door and the cop entered right after with his gun in his hand.

"Get that thing back where you found it you idiot!" Where do you think you are? Fort Alamo?" Frank shouted.

"I heard screaming I thought…" the cop said sheepishly.

"Where is the first aid kit?" asked Frank.

The cop took it outside and gave the white case to him. "Get out now." Frank ordered. He came closer to Dean who was lost in his silence. When Frank took his hands he tensed.

"Calm down I'm just going to take those bandages off and clean your wounds that's all."

Dean let go and as Frank was doing what he promised, he observed Dean's hands. He had screwy fingers witnessing the load of fractures he had, most of the time not healed. Frank cleaned the wounds with alcohol but Dean never showed any pain.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked almost whispering.

"I'm not doing this only for you, you know?" Their eyes met and Dean gave him a weak smile.

"You should know by now I'm a lost cause."

"There is no such thing as lost cause… or I would have chosen another job."

"If you say so…" Dean closed his eyes accepting the care he was receiving, and it was not usual for him. The only man he was accepting care from was Gaby, but here he was, too tired to even react or complain. The shouts consumed him.

They were both silent the time Frank cleaned his wounds and contusions. He was smiling at his own image… If his coworkers could see him here, taking care of a prisoner they would think he's crazy. It wasn't a thing an attorney was supposed to do but he didn't care at that moment. He really wanted to save this man. It was worth it he was sure about that. Suddenly he remembered his ex-wife's phone call…

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"Jody?"

"hey Frank !"

"What's the occasion?" he smiled, elbows on his desk. He looked at the clock on the wall: 9.45 pm…

"I see you're still in your office." She said. He could feel in her voice she was almost blaming. His work was a source for a lot of happiness but it also caused him his marriage. It took too much place and caused a divorce after 14 years of marriage. She was too tired to deal with it and left. He couldn't blame her after all.

Jody worked for the Social Services with the Police, this is how they met. Frank was 15 years older than her, but they had a common passion: the human soul. She was saving souls and he was saving lives. She knew a lot of people thanks to her job and she never hesitated to help the attorneys when they needed a hand to save a broken soul. Reintegration was very important to both of them, they were animated by the same will to give hop to people.

A lot of Frank "clients" did reintegration sessions in the Social Services centers. Some of them even managed to find a long term job there, and he was very proud when this happened. It was poorly paid but it was the price to pay to start a new life, and it was a good opportunity for Social Services because they really needed more people to work there.

"Jody?" He finally said.

"I've read your message Frank…" He scowled, "the one you left last month. I've read his file."

There was a long silence then Jody said:

"If you want I may have something for you: A six month's placement in St Gerry Hall."

"The psychiatric Hospital?"

"I think it's the perfect place for him after his past life." Frank heard her searching papers at the other side of the phone. "It's a place full of lost souls, maybe it's the opportunity for him to see his own life from a new perspective."

"If only you were right!" Frank hoped.

"Is it that bad?" Jody worried a little. "Frank you have to tell me if it's not worth it, I don't want any problem with Mary she trusts me. Don't make me regret this."

"No don't worry, I'll let you know. Thanks Jody… Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome. I know you care about that young man… You know you can't save everybody right Frank?"

He sighed. "Yeah I know. But he's… different. You understand ?"

"I do. Let me know if it's ok then, but don't be too long I have a lot of Franks harassing me" She smiled and Frank knew it even through the phone.

"Yes but I'm your one and only Frank anyway."

"True. You are. Bye Frank, you should go home now."

"I was about to leave when you called actually." He lied.

"Yeah right." She laughed. "Goodnight Frank."

"Goodnight Jody. And thank you again, for everything."

Frank didn't wait too long before Dean was arrested again two days later for another "Cage fight". This cage was only Dean's own prison's reflect, the one he built in his head and from which he never wanted to go out.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Frank stood up using his desk to help him, his legs were sore after staying in that position to clean Dean's wounds.

"Thank you" Dean said shyly.

"For the other injuries…" Deveraux said and Dean looked at him, "I'll ask they take you to St James' ER."

"Not necessary."

"I'm not asking for your permission. You're currently under the State's responsibility… and so under MY responsibility. You're going to St James whether you like it or not." He went to sit behind his desk letting the first aid kit on the ground. "You want pain killers?"

"No."

Frank took the file on his left. "let me make a proposition to you."

Dean sighed "Again!"

"Wait before you whine ok?"

"I don't need a job. I'm all good by myself."

"Right I can see that" Frank said sarcastically.

"I earn more with one fight than you working whole month."

"… when you win."

"I win often enough to live at least."

Frank sank into his chair. "I'll be retired in a few months and you'll have a not so nice attorney in front of you then. He will throw you in prisons way less friendly, you can't even understand what the hell it is before you went."

"I'll get through it. I know how to defend myself and I know hell better than you do."

"Does it mean you want to live in it again?"

Dean's face froze and for the first time since he knew him, Frank saw the fear on it for a few second. He knew that his words touched him.

"So here is the proposition…" Dean scowled but let Frank continue "I found a six months placement for you. It's paid a minimum."

"Great."

"Have you ever heard of St Gerry Hall?" Frank asked ignoring his sarcastic tone.

Dean shook his head to say no.

"It's a psychiatric hospital for poor souls in north town."

"Poor souls?" asked Dean.

"People who nobody care about, with no family, no money, no social protection..."

"Some place to die then?"

Frank glared at him "The staff there is doing his best to help them but they have no resources and survive only thanks to these people's generosity and some rich donors."

"And?"

"And? …" repeated Frank.

"What do you want me to do in a place like that? I have no degree and no experience to work with crazy people."

"They are not crazy" Frank said raisin his tone.

"It is a psychiatric hospital… it would surprise me if they were sane" Dean justified.

"What do you think?" asked Frank to help Dean stay focus on his matter.

"I don't think anything but I have the feeling I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice."

Dean looked at his fingers and asked "When is that crappy thing supposed to start?"

Frank smiled. "I just have one phone call to make."

"It's Tuesday. Let me till next Monday."

"Why?"

"I'm just asking as a favor."

Frank bent on his desk "Are you planning more fights? I hope you're kidding me."

"Who's talking about fighting?"

"Don't think I'm that stupid kiddo." Frank stood up. "I'm calling St Gerry this afternoon and you'll be there early tomorrow morning."

Dean scowled full of rage.

"And don't use that behavior with me it won't work."

"Next Monday." Dean affirmed again.

"Tomorrow!" Frank shouted.

"I will do whatever I want even in a place like that anyway."

Frank got around his desk furious. Dean never saw him like this with a huge vein popping out his forehead.

"You listen to me Dean Winchester: This is your last chance. If you don't take it you'll end up locked in a cage way more terrifying than the one you love to wallow so much! I don't want anybody to call me one day announcing me you're dead; you understand that, you idiot? Prison will be death for you, and not the one you wish for, the one you flee from!" Frank yelled. "Stop destroying yourself like that damn it! You did nothing wrong Dean, you hear me? You have nothing to be blamed for! Don't let him win!"

"He's already won." Dean said tears in his eyes.

"No Dean, you-are-alive!"

"Yeah for Sam, only for him and his stupid promise." A tear run down his cheek.

"Bullshit! This is only an excuse. You're alive because you want to be." Frank looked at him tenderly. "Life hasn't ended yesterday, Dean. It's going on but you forgot to walk through it.

"Why don't you leave me alone?"

"Because I'm a pain in the ass."

Dean sat back down avoiding a laugh. "Alright… The sooner I start the sooner I'll be done with it."

"Promise me one thing."

Dean froze. "I don't promise anymore."

"Can I hope you'll stop all of this?" Frank asked pointing Dean's hands.

"Consider yourself lucky I'm doing your stupid placement already."

Frank sighed. "At least try to not get caught next time. And take care of yourself."

Dean looked at him a long time and get up. "Can I go?"

"Sign this first." Frank opened the file.

"What is it?"

"Your contract with St Gerry Hall."

"What is I don't like it or they don't like me?"

"I would try to end it the friendly way I guess."

Dean took the pen Frank was handing to him and read the contract.

Thirty hours a week, weekend included. There were no specific details about the work he would do but it didn't bother him. He's made a lot of things already, even cleaning toilets. It couldn't be worse. He signed and gave the pen back.

"Happy?"

"For you yes."

"So can I go now?"

"Sergeant will take you to St James and then back to the police station so you can get your stuff back. Then you'll be free to go… except if you break your contract without any warning, or if you don't get to your work place in time for the next six months."

"What would happen then?"

"We would meet again and you wouldn't like it."

Dean sighed deeply "Fine."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean went to the ER to have some exam done. It showed a broken rib. Except prescribe pain killers and some rest, doctors could not do anything more.

The sergeant drove him back to the station without a word. He made him sign some papers and gave him his stuff back: a wallet with 105$ in it, some coins, and his room and car keys. The only valuable thing he had was from his uncle Bobby, when he died a few years ago. Bobby knew how much Dean loved this car and he also knew he would take care of it more than his own life.

Uncle bobby… The only person who was always nice to him and his brother, but he lived so far away. He never knew… or if he did it was too late. Maybe this is what killed him after all.

Dean didn't sleep that night. Deveraux gave him the name and address of the St Gerry Hall Director. He had to be in her office early in the morning. He was kind of scared of the idea to be locked with crazy people. Or maybe he was scared to feel at home and to share their craziness. He got up and had a glass of whisky. He looked at the window, the street was empty. He made a face when alcohol touched his sore lips.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He parked the Impala right in front of St Gerry's front gate. The first thing Dean noticed was the building. He expected some high grey walls but he found a huge mansion at the end of a big well maintained garden. And even if from where he stood he could see the bars at the windows he couldn't help but smile. On the side of the mansion he could see some private rooms. He got out of the car, approached the big front gate and ringed.

"Yes?" A male voice came out.

"I'm Dean Winchester, I have an appointment with Mary Campbell."

"One moment please."

Dean took another look around him.

In a window of the third floor. A man with a very pale face, he looked like he was sick, his forehead leaning against the window.

The gate opened, Dean went down the alley in his car until he reached the main yard. The gate closed behind him.

The man hit his forehead in rhythm against the window.

"Castiel you're going to hurt yourself sweetheart. Stop it." The nurse said.

End of chapter I

copyright2013

**Please don't hesitate to leave a review, don't hesitate to use this fic to talk and to share opinions.**

**It's here for people to think, and to make people understand.**

**It's here for all the victims, to bring them out of the silence they're locked in. **

**I wrote it to let them know they're not alone.**

**People need to know, and they eventually need to help, to hold their hands out and to break the taboo.**

**I will feel content and I'll think I succeeded the challenge only if readers are touched by the story and by the characters.**

**They are the voice of the speechless victims.**

**Thank you**


	2. The attic

**First of all, I would like to thank you to have read my fic**

**Special thanks to RoxyJ and all of you who put me on their favorite or follow my fic…**

**WARNING : M**

**CHAPTER 2: THE ATTIC**

He opened his eyes and shivered. He was so cold and hungry!

Left here in his kingdom made of beams and wood boards, he lifted his blue eyes up to the skylight and saw the blue sky without any cloud. He smiled a little when he thought about him flying like a bird, the same birds that were flying in front of the skylight, leaving shadows on his skin so pale that it was almost transparent.

He never left this room. This empty attic was his only home for more than 30 years. There was an old and dirty bed in a corner. He could feel the springs hurting his back and his soul. It was so unpleasant that he slept on the old wood floor. In one of the walls there were a tiny sink, some awful chemical toilet, and a too small table was fixed on the ground. Ugly and used pajamas were hanging on the wall. There were one chair and one shelf with old books on it. A small plastic mirror was hanging near the sink… "That way you can't hurt yourself angel."

He looked at the shelf and remembered his hell started that day, when he was a child and he was listening to her reading the Bible. He asked her to teach him how to read the Word of God. She accepted because he was "old enough", she said, though he didn't know old enough for what.

When she raised her hand the first time and their eyes met, he knew. She would teach him how to read and write using slaps and ruler hits. And then she used a stick. She was beating till she couldn't breathe, and when she was out of breathe she was caressing his hair saying all of this was for his own good, that one day he would thank her because she did this with love. He ended up believing it as she was his only landmark.

And then he became a teenager and he discovered his own body. He didn't understand how it could react though.

He was so thin and weak because she fed him just enough to keep him alive. Not too much because he couldn't be strong enough to fight or flee.

Why would he flee anyway? He was programmed to stay and be obedient. Why would he flee when he didn't know anything about the outside world? She always talked about it like it was hell, but actually hell was inside that attic. But he didn't know this.

"See, angel, I'm here to protect you. You need to stay here, in a safe place so I can watch over you."

Sometimes he wanted to be deaf to not hear that awful voice anymore, but at the same time she was the only presence he had.

And sometime there was a man opening the trapdoor. He wasn't speaking. He never even looked at him like he was invisible. He was fixing the toilet or the tap, or he was cleaning after the mess. After the angel turned into rage, when the human being inside wanted to get out of this body and fly like the birds.

She found him a morning enjoying himself. He was very surprised to discover the pleasure of his own caress. He was loving himself on his own since nobody wanted to love him. It was something smooth and surprising at the same time bringing him the pleasure that was so forbidden. This pleasure was so pleasant for someone who knew only violence.

She hit him so hard that time, again and again. It became almost normal to him, how could he possibly know it wasn't? It was all his life, the only way he knew.

Her voice pierced through the silence. She caught his wrist and twisted it so hard she almost broke it. He screamed in pain, and she beat him again so he would stop. She smiled when she saw his manhood right here, and she took it in her hand. She tightened so strong he collapsed.

Years went by and craziness found a place in his mind. He was locked in a new attic, the one he built in his own head and for which he wouldn't give the key to anybody. He spoke less and less and one day he just stopped speaking forever. He was mute. The more she beat the quieter he became.

He was eating, drinking, washing, getting to the toilet and that's it. Conditioned. Once a week she was bringing an electric razor for him to shave. Once a month she was cutting his hair not caring about how he would look. He wasn't reacting to anything anymore. He was locked in prison. She was talking to him like she would talk to a doll, but she stopped beating him that often.

He wasn't sleeping that much either. He was staring at the walls or the sky with an empty look. Sometimes she was emerging in his room in the middle of the night to beat him without a reason, maybe to evacuate all the anger eating her soul. Then he was searching her eyes to scream at them with his own look.

But why was she doing this?

She repeated he was evil and God was guiding her hand to bring him back on the path of redemption.

Sometimes he was waking up suddenly to see her lying against him, her hand on his chest, smiling. And then her hand would fall south. He was too weak, too tired and too crazy to react, but he knew she was violating his life. He let her do what she wanted and during that time he was flying to the shy in his head, till his orgasm came suddenly.

He was alone for a few days. He knew it because the sun came up and down six times. He likes counting. He had nothing to eat so he drank a lot to not feel the hunger. He was so skinny you could only see his giant blue eyes on his pale face, staring at the emptiness.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean entered the mansion. There was a huge lobby with 2 stairs to go to the first floor.

"May I help you?"

He turned and saw a woman smiling at him. He stepped forward feeling uncomfortable.

"I have an appointment with Misses Campbell."

"And you are …?"

"Dean Winchester."

She looked at her agenda. "Yes indeed. Sit here" she said pointing a sofa, "I'll go get her, she's still visiting her patients."

Visiting her patients. Those words stayed in Dean's head for a moment, and then he nodded at her before sitting.

Visiting patients every morning was essential to Mary Campbell. Her patients… even if most of them weren't noticing her presence she was always taking time to talk to them. They had to know they're not alone. Ideally she would want more time to do it and more people to take care of the hardest cases. Nurses already had to heal them, wash them, feed them, they had no time to care too much. It was all a matter of time. They were all living with a very specific and well organized schedule. The smallest change could have disastrous consequences.

Her face changed when she approached his room. He was standing at the window as usual, looking at the sky, lost. Sometimes he was hitting his forehead against it in rhythm like an invisible clock ticking.

"Hello Castiel." She said.

He didn't react, he never did. She was absolutely certain there was still a flame of life in this broken body but she had no time and no way to help him getting out of his prison. He became a lost soul among others here after the press stopped making money on him. "The Attic Boy" as they said.

He was no boy though; the doctors estimated he was around 30 or 35. The police researched lost children in their database after they found a picture of Elisabeth McLean holding a scared boy in her living room. His look was speaking for itself. That boy was soon identified as the attic boy thanks to science. DNA showed he was no relative with Elizabeth and him. He had no family. Who was he?

Four months after he was found there was nothing they could find about him. Missouri, one of the nurses, called him Castiel because he entered St Gerry Hall a Thursday, and Castiel is known to be the angel of Thursdays. She thought this angel name would fit perfectly with his angelic blue eyes. Mary agreed and the attic boy became Castiel, the John Doe of St Gerry Hall.

Her phone rang and she stepped aside letting Garth, another care taker, close the door.

"Yes Lisa?" Mary closed her eyes and ran a hand through her long blond hair. "My God I completely forgot about him! Make him wait in my office I'm coming right now." She hung up.

"Garth, would you please finish the visit for me? I have to go meet our new probationer."

"Sure Mary."

She left and he went to the next room. Castiel turned to face the door, his look still empty.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

The postman was surprised to have still no answers after ringing the doorbell. He called several times but Mrs. McLean wasn't answering either. Since the death of her nephew, Ralph, she was living locked in her house so he was not too worried the first days, but today was the fourth day with no sign of life.

He turned all around the house, looking at all the windows to try to see her in the mess that was her house now. He finally saw her in the kitchen, dead on the ground. He tried to open the door without success. He broke a window he almost threw up when he breathed the awful stinky air inside the house. She was obviously dead for a few days already.

The coroner said it was an accident. There was blood in the corner of the kitchen table, and there was some oil spread on the ground and on her shoes so she probably slipped, fell and her head broke. They took the body out but nobody looked around in the house. She was known to live alone with her nephew Ralph since her husband and his son died 37 years ago from a car accident.

The day right after, the bored kids from the neighborhood decided to enter her house and see what they could steal. They did it at night of course, they needed sensations.

The four friends knew her close neighbors weren't home so they turned on the light in the whole house. They laughed and screamed when they saw the horror of that weird and dirty house. There was a stuffed dog, her dog, standing right next to the stairs.

"Johnny, come on, upstairs!" Two of them went upstairs while the other two were visiting the ground floor.

Noises? shouts?… he didn't understand what it was. It was actually laughter. He never heard such noise. He looked up to the skylight, the sky was dark.

"Johnny! Look there!" The boy said pointing the trapdoor.

"Wow you see how many locks there are? Open it Marty!"

"How? It's too high!"

"There is a scale right next to it dumbass!" Johnny took it, climbed it and painfully unlocked all of the trapdoor's locks. Marty followed him. A cut electrical wire fell so they jumped and laughed again.

He slowly looked through the opened trapdoor. He winced, there was a horrible smell in that attic!

"It stinks in here! And I can't see anything!"

"Hold on I'll be back"

Johnny heard his friend getting back downstairs in a rush. He opened the trapdoor further and yelled when he saw a pair of eyes shining next to his face. He fell and broke his leg, crying and screaming at the same time.

Cops discovered him this day too. It was like facing the horror. He was so skinny he barely looked human except for his eyes which would traumatize Johnny for the rest of his life. He was transported to St James hospital in critical condition. He stayed in a coma for a few days. Doctors all asked the same question: how was he still alive?

Of course the police wanted to know who he was. Mc Lean left nothing about him, no explanation. He was just an unidentified prisoner in her attic, eaten by humidity and dirt.

He woke up in panic, several nurses had to maintain him in his bed which made him panic even more. They had to tranquilize him and when he woke up, he stared at the ceiling with an empty look. Since this day he stayed petrified behind the impassable wall of his memory.

He was eating but he wasn't even looking at his plate so he was spilling all of the food on him. They had to feed him too. He wasn't reacting. Everybody had the impression his body was here but his soul wasn't. He was going to the bathroom alone at least. He never wanted to be touched and if the doctor tried he could become violent toward them and he could even hurt himself. More than one person in his room was just impossible.

One day one of the nurses worried to see he wasn't going out of the bathroom. She came in and saw he was curled under the sink. She tried to get him up but he yelled and pushed her so hard her eyebrow ended up hitting the doorknob. They had to tranquilize and tie him this time.

He was looking at this strange world with fear and the more he was seeing people around him the more he was hiding in his attic.

Not knowing what else to do with him, the doctors called Campbell. She came to visit him in his room and when she entered he was standing up fixing the sky through the window. His thinness scared her. She stood next to him but he didn't react.

"Hello, my name is Mary Campbell."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"Hello I'm Mary Campbell, sorry I'm late I forgot what time we had to meet"

Dean stood up and nodded to greet her.

"It's okay."

She sat down and so did Dean.

"Dean Winchester right?" She finally looked at him and was immediately surprised by the depth of his look. He felt uncomfortable but didn't say anything about it because she looked gentle and warm.

"Why are you here?"

"A six months' placement." He said a bit on the defensive.

"This is not what I'm asking. Mr. Deveraux sent you so I presume…" She suspended her sentence and Dean wanted to speak but she added quickly "The truth, please."

He looked down.

"Underground fights."

"I beg your pardon?"

He sank in his chair. "I was fighting to live. Like… boxing but… in its illegal version."

"I know what underground fights are thank you." She pushed a hair lock away. "how old are you?"

"Almost 30."

"You look already older." She opened her desk drawer to take a key. "I suppose nobody told you about St Gerry hall or how we're planning to use your capacities?"

"No madam." He was very surprised to sound so polite, but she inspired respect.

"Come with me, I'll give you a tour and I'll explain what I'm waiting from you. I prefer to warn you it won't be a very glorious job."

"Don't worry, no job can scare me."

"Good." She stood up. "Follow me."

They walked a few seconds without a word, they crossed only a care taker who smiled at him.

"I'd rather be clear right now: we call all the patients by their names here, no stupid names such as crazy, loony, mad, maniac, nut or anything. They are human beings, it's not because nobody care about them anymore that we have to do the same."

Dean looked at her neck from behind as she was walking before him. Everything was different in her: the sound of her voice, the words she used… a whole new world for him!

"This is the key to the supply closet. You'll find all the equipment you need."

"Equipment?"

"Yes." She turned to face him, "you'll be in charge of the rooms cleaning but only in the West quarter. The patients there are not dangerous."

"What about the East quarter?" he dared asking.

She smiled. "Only the West quarter you heard me?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good."

She turned right and opened the refectory's door using a code. 1967.

"Memorize this code, you'll need it every day." She entered followed by Dean. "Here we serve lunch and dinner to the easiest patients. Breakfasts are served in each room."

She walked further and opened another door with another code.

"Remember this one too: 0211. It's access to the staff refectory. We can eat at any hour of the day, Mark is our cook, he does miracles you'll see." She nicely looked at him.

"So I'll eat here."

"Of course meals are included in your contract."

"Oh." He smiles, content.

"Let's talk about your contract". She said while she stopped walking. "30 hours a week, weekend included."

"Yeah I know… and paid a minimum."

"Believe me I would love to pay all of you more than you're paid, and I would love to offer a full time job but I can't afford it."

"It's better than nothing."

"A few of the employees live in the private rooms." She turned to face him, "If I'd offer you a private room would you work more for free?" asked her a bit shy.

"What do you mean exactly?" Dean asked surprised.

"35 or 37 hours a week for example."

Dean frowned. Gaby wouldn't like it but his own room for free, free food… Six months was not the end of the world. He would find some time to do a few fights a month and after all he wasn't the only one fighting for Gaby. It was a great opportunity to save some money.

"Alright."

She smiled.

"Of course it would be wise to keep this little arrangement between us."

"Of course."

She laughed. "Come on I'll show you your room." She turned and looked at him. "Thank you. You see… we own the mansion, some rich donor left it to us, but all its activity works thanks to donations. I pay the staff with the little help of the state. I buy low cost medicines thanks to St James hospital. We work together. I would like to do more for the patients but…" She sighed, "At least I can count on a few volunteer and loyal nurses. They come and give some time to help the staff here."

Dean looked her face lightening when she talked about her mansion and its residents. He had no faith in humanity anymore but she sure was special.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

The room was spacious and bright. Dean threw his bad on the bed. There was an empty closet, a television a coffee machine, a hotplate, a fridge, a separated bathroom with a toilet and a sink, and the showers were at the end of the hallway. It was way better than his usual motel rooms he rent.

"Is it ok for you?" Mary asked.

"It's perfect."

"I'll let you settle down. I'll introduce you to Phil later. He's the one who's in charge of the East quarter, he will explain to you what you'll have to do every day."

"They are the dangerous ones right?"

She smiled. He was curious and she liked it because curious people are usually ready to open to others.

"Let's just say they are harder cases but I won't deny you should avoid some of them if you care about your balls young man."

He stared at her shocked. Funny language for such a woman!

"See you at noon for lunch?"

"Okay". He smiled still thinking about her previous words.

She was on her way out when she heard him call. "Yes?" she asked turning back.

"Please call me Dean."

"Alright, Dean. You can call me Mary then."

"hum… no ma'am." He smiled and disappeared in his room again.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Missouri entered with the plate and put him on the table.

"It's time to eat Castiel." She said in the softest voice she had.

He obeyed without looking at the nurse. She sat next to him looking at him. He took the toast and put it in his mouth still without looking at it. He did the same with the glass of water and of course he spilled some on his clothes.

"Come on…" She laughed and took the napkin from the plate.

"I'm going to wipe your chin sweetheart. Stay still ok? It's just me."

She wiped carefully sensing him sinking in his chair. He really couldn't take it, no contact, but he finally tolerated a few after loads of efforts and hours of patience. He could at least be shaved without causing any mess.

"Look at me Castiel." She insisted and he turned his face to look at her, sinking his blue eyes in hers. He was really looking at her, his look wasn't empty. She smiled at him and he tilted his head frowning as usual.

She was the only one who could to this with him, the only one he was looking in the eye without an empty look. She was the only one who could share such an intimate moment with him. It was like in the eyes of the nurse he could find a trace of humanity he could grip to not fall too far.

She wanted to touch his face so much, to show him her hand wasn't here to slap, to show him tenderness after all the violence he lived. But how to cure 30 years of physical and psychological abuse? It was almost impossible. She would simply appreciate his look and it was actually quite a victory already.

"You still don't want to go out?"

He stood up quickly and went to the window.

"As you wish." She took the plate, "See you for dinner Castiel."

As an answer she heard his forehead hitting the window. She sighed and went out.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean went out in the main yard facing the park. He looked at his car, checked it was well locked and went to the private rooms' area.

He felt a strange sensation in his neck, he turned around but saw nothing.

At the third floor, a face against a window was observing him. He didn't see him.

Castiel started to hit his forehead against the glass again.

End chapter II.

**I hope to see you next Saturday…**


	3. Each our own hell

**I'd like to thank you to read, to favorite or follow this story**

**Don't hesite to share it because, it's not only a fic…it's also a reality…People need to know**

**Thank you to Shining Sunny ( I can't contact you by MP, I don't know why…so )**

**WARNING : M**

**CHAPTER III : EACH OUR OWN HELL**

Dean held his cold hand. Sam was late and his school bag was too heavy. He was tired due to a hard day at school and a lack of sleep the previous night. His dad John and his mom Karen fought till dawn. Then they loudly made peace at 4 am. Sam was only 7 so he snuggled up to his brother's protecting chest. Dean held him tight in his arms whispering comforting words.

Sam looked at his brother more and more worried as they approached hell. Dean exhaled and stopped to readjust his schoolbag. He turned to his brother and smiled, then he ruffled his hair.

"Ready Tiger?"

Sam nodded. When they entered the house they didn't hear a sound. The television was off which means John wasn't back from work yet. Or maybe he was still at Lilith's Bar considering the hour.

Dean helped Sam taking off his coat and then threw his own bag aside.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Same as you."

Dean saw his thumb and caught his hand. "You really need to stop that, you're a big boy now you know?"

Sam begged him with his eyes.

"You and your damn puppy look!" He laughed and his little brother did so while he took him to the kitchen. Dean winced. Sam just woke his sore shoulder up, memory of one more beating.

The kitchen was very messy, the dirty dishes were in the sink for days and empty bottles were lying on the ground and on the table. There even was a broken glass near the backdoor to remember yesterday's fight. The backdoor was leading to the backyard where John was tying Dean to the doghouse when he was full of rage. Dean shared the whole night with their dog Barjack when this happened. At least Barjack was full of warmth and tenderness in this hell. He wanted to protect the kids but was often sharing their beatings and their pain. They probably even shared their points of view about human beings. 

Dean opened the fridge, it was almost empty. He found an opened milk bottle and smiled after he smelt it. He took a glass, washed it and filled it with milk for his brother who was sitting at the table trying to take the empty bottles off.

"Here." Dean offered.

"What about you?"

"I'll have some water, you know I can't digest milk very well." Dean lied. He looked at the calendar stuck on the fridge to check his mom's working hours. He prayed for her to come back before his dad. She was an alcoholic too but at least she always defended her children when John was blaming them. Problem was she often worked 3 or 4 nights a week and her absence then was worse than hell.

The front door opened, Dean tensed, Sam stood up and went to his brother to hide. When Dean heard the footsteps on the floor he already knew and he felt tears in his eyes and anger in his gut.

"Would you go to your room and begin your homework Sammy? I'll come in a minute to help you."

Sam shook his head begging his brother to not leave him, holding tight on his shirt. He was 7 but he knew why Dean was asking this. He sure would have to put his fingers in his ears to not hear the beating and the whimpering of his brother.

"Please Sammy, for me." He smiled and Sam stepped back a little but did obey.

Sam moved against the wall to avoid his father… too late. John caught his sweater's collar.

"You don't say hello?"

"Hi dad." He was scared and ready to lift his arms to avoid his fists.

"Where are you going Sam?" John asked coughing, his breath full of alcohol and cigarettes.

"Do my homework."

"Bullshit! You don't need that I already told you! You'll end up in a factory like your useless mother!"

"No I want to be a doctor." Sam proudly answered.

John gave him a weird smile.

"I'll heal mom and Dean."

John's smile froze and Sam already regretted what he said. He tried to run to the hallway but it was too late, John was frustrated and he would show it. Sam just gave him a great opportunity for that.

John lifted his hand and slapped his son right on his face, throwing him against the wall and opening his lip.

"You little BRAT!"

He started to cry. John stepped back and lifted his hand a second time but this time it ended up on Dean's forearm.

"Don't touch him!" Dean yelled giving him a death stare.

John looked at him right in the eyes for a long moment.

"Sammy go the hell upstairs" Dean suddenly said hearing him sniffing behind his back.

"No Dean I don't wanna go without you." He pleaded.

"Sam!" Dean urged.

The little brother finally obeyed, Dean heard him climbing the stairs crying. He closed his eyes and here was hell again.

His mom's voice woke him up. He actually collapsed on the floor after the violence of the beating. Each move was painful.

"Mom…" He started to cry.

"Oh my sweet little love…" She said caressing his hair. She helped him getting up. Dean knew she drank too because of the smell of her breath, but she wasn't completely drunk yet.

Climbing the stairs was torture. His mom was barely standing but at least she was here helping him. She made him sit on the bathtub and helped him take his shirt off. Dean noticed she was crying silently. Seeing his body full of scars and contusions she put her hand softly on his side but he winced.

"My poor baby…" She fell and cried with her head on her knees. Dean needed comfort but he had to comfort her instead. He put his hand on her head.

"It's ok mommy."

He turned to the left and saw Sam in tears at the door. He quickly swiped the blood from his mouth and tried to hide the sadness in his eyes. Dean saw anger in his brother's eyes though… Sammy wouldn't hold his brother's hand from now, he would put it on his shoulder to support him.

Dean was working in St Gerry for almost a week now and he had to admit he liked his job. Cleaning rooms wasn't very rewarding but it wasn't worse than any other job he had. It was actually better since he had his own place and food for free. Mark was a great cook, he made nice meals with a few money. Dean was even sleeping better, he was able to sleep a few hours straight now even if he still woke up in sweat after a nightmare.

He considered this mansion as a safe place despite all the craziness within those walls.

He was getting along with Phil, another "cleaner" as he called himself, pretty well. He helped Dean learning the job because even it wasn't something hard to do, there were specificities. He had to sweep every day, wash the grounds once a week or more in case of emergency, check the toilet and empty the trashcan in each room. He also had to clean all the showers and check there was nothing missing.

He wasn't meeting a lot of patients because he often cleaned their rooms when they weren't in it. They were in the day room or the refectory most of the time doing some common activities organized by Missouri, the retired nurse, or by Leyla Fredges, the occupational therapist.

Dean got along with Missouri since the first day. She was from New-Orleans and had a strong south accent and a warm bossy voice. She was a widow so this place became her second home and the staff became her second family. Patients loved her very much and so did all of the staff members, especially Mary who was deeply admiring her. Her plump body and her bright face attracted everybody and her laughter was bringing life to the mansion.

Dean was lost in his thoughts holding his cold cup of coffee.

"Hey!"

He jumped and Phil took a sit in front of him.

"You mind if I sit here?" He asked putting his coffee and a plate with two croissants in it on the table.

"It's too late you're already here." Dean smiled.

"Yeah" Phil laughed.

"How you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm ok"

"You're already done with your work?"

"Hell no! You can't imagine how lucky you are being in charge with West quarter… not much to clean but on the East quarter the pee and shit everywhere. A real delight!" explained Phil.

"Well switch with me I don't mind."

Phil raised an eyebrow and laughed "You have some strange ideas buddy! I wonder why you would clean all of the crazies' mess."

"I thought we weren't allowed to call them like that." Dean smiled and took a sip of his coffee. He winced but even cold coffee was good enough for him.

"Yeah on the West side they're not but on my quarter it's another story."

"Have you been… attacked?" Dean asked curious.

"Not really. Most of the time they're on medication or tied to their beds, and some rooms I can't even enter before the patient's out or…" He drew a line across his neck "Couic!... There are some pretty sick souls there."

Dean was listening attentively.

"One day a patient threatened me with his fork."

Dean laughed "Thank god he didn't point at you balls!" and he laughed harder seeing Phil's shocked face.

He was surprised to laugh like that as he hasn't for so long. It was like hearing someone else's echo, but it was actually his laugh resonating between the walls, like his soul was starting to free from its chains. He was suddenly scared and got up.

"I gotta go. See you tonight for dinner?"

Phil looked at him a bit confused. "Okay" he said smiling at him a bit worried.

Dean left the refectory, his shift was over but it was only 1:30 pm. He needed to take some fresh air. He needed to find his reality back so he searched for a number on his phone.

"Hey Gab! It's me." He said faking a cheerful tone.

He waved at the front desk secretary and went out. He opened the door of the Impala and felt this strange sensation in his neck again, like someone was watching. He turned around but saw nobody. He had no good eyes anyway, after years of beating it wasn't so much surprising. He shrugged and got in his car.

Missouri observed some change in Castiel's behavior. He was still standing at the window but he had a tiny reaction, his shoulders shivered a bit and he knocked his forehead against the window. She left the sheets she was changing in the bed and stepped toward him. He was staring at something in the yard. She raised an eyebrow and took her glasses off her pocket to look outside. There she saw him near his car. She smiled at Castiel's reflection.

"His name is Dean." He didn't react. "Look at me Castiel" she softly lifted his chin with her finger "Castiel… look at me."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" She violently took his chin in her hand searching for his look. He hadn't looked at her for months.

"You ungrateful creature! After all I did for you this is how you thank me? By hating me and disrespect me?"

He was sitting here with his knees on his chest. He was so thin you could see his rib bones. His backbone was showing too. Years of abuse, pain and lack of medical care weakened him so much he was just surviving. He was a soul locked in a flesh vessel. He had trouble breathing for a few days and his eyes were so hollowed they were almost lost inside his brain. He was like an angel waiting for the death Cerberus.

She stood up using her stick, a wood cane she never left. She was using it to walk and sometimes she was using it to hit. She looked old, her skin was black-spotted. She was just full of anger and she spited it on this poor soul who never rebelled but never really acknowledged either.

She crushed his feet with the extremity of her stick and broke one of his toes. His bones were so weak they could break easily, it was like the attic boy became the crystal boy. He had no strength to scream or cry. He was not a child anymore, he was not a teenager either, he was just a poor man.

She lifted his chin with her stick this time.

"I will die soon" she whispered smiling.

No reaction.

"You'll die here all alone, in this attic, nobody knows you even exist because you're NOBODY! LOOK AT ME!" she yelled. "You're the evil and nobody will want to save you."

She suddenly moved back shocked: he finally sank his cold eyes in hers.

"Don't you dare look at me like that you hear me? Look down!" she ordered between rage and anger. She had the feeling he was piercing her soul. She raised her stick to hit him, and in a slow but precise move he caught it. She was so upset, it's been years he hadn't such a reaction. Unfortunately he was way too weak and in a second she pushed him and stepped back. He closed his eyes waiting the punishment but he only heard the trapdoor closing.

When he was younger he rebelled more often so she drugged him and tied him on his bed, letting him in his own faeces for several days. The ultimate humiliation. She wanted to control the rebel creature.

The worst were rapes though. She was lying next to him to masturbate and he was painfully trying to stop his body to react. She was lying on him and he was feeling her warmth melting with his own. She said it was natural and he shouldn't be ashamed or scared because it was love and she loved him despite his evilness. But he knew deep down it was bad. He associated this to a new form of pain.

He was closing his eyes hard. He so wished he could put his fingers in his ears and stop listening to that high voice expressing the pleasure so loud. He hated his body and he hated the way it reacted to her touch. He hated the wave of pleasure crossing his gut and making him moan. He just hated himself, he was evil, dirty and he deserved all of this.

He broke inside and separated his flesh and his soul… his soul became a bird flying to avoid that strange woman talking about his prison and his death.

He ended up not reacting anymore. Ever. He finally learnt how to control his body even when she was trying to make it react under her fingers. It was like a personal revenge even if it was so little.

He survived this hell, human being can be stronger than you'd think.

But she would soon find something else to enslave him.

"Where is he right now?" Missouri asked herself.

"Castiel? Would you look at me please?"

He refused to turn to her. She wanted to force him gently but he just couldn't take his eyes off the car leaving the yard. She tried one more time… and it was too much. He knocked his head hard on the window and his forehead wounded.

He didn't hear him, nobody could hear his pain. He screamed internally and fell on his knees because of the violence of the shock.

Dean entered the building and climbed the stairs quickly till he reached the fourth floor. He hated elevators because he couldn't stand being locked in a so small space, he was suffocating.

He knocked on the door. "Come in, it's open!"

Gaby was on the phone talking business… bets, of course. He was smiling. He turned to Dean and nodded to him to show him the sofa. Dean first went to the kitchen and took a beer in the fridge then he sat on the couch. He knew this place well because he spent a few nights in the guest room. When the fights were too hard Gaby didn't want the guys to be alone so he was taking care of them here. The Cage couldn't wait, Dean knew it was for both interests.

He brought them to the local clinic only when the injuries were too critical. He was an ambulance driver when he was younger but he was no expert or doctor. Gaby was very honest and never cheated and that what Dean liked about him. He knew he wasn't only a fighter for him and Gaby knew Dean liked to fight. Screaming his pain through those fights was a good compromise for both of them, and Gaby liked Dean.

The bedroom door opened and a woman in a night-dress appeared. She greeted Dean with a large smile.

"Hey Bibi!"

"Hey Rage!"

She never called Gaby's fighters by their real names. Dean didn't know why but it was ok for him. He's known Gaby for years, and Bibi, a 28 years old mixed-raced woman, was his official lover. Of course she knew he had unofficial lovers sharing his bed too but she knew she was his favorite and it was enough for her. It was her Gaby was going out in public with.

"I heard you found a new job?" she asked on her way to the kitchen, kissing Gaby at the same time. "With loonies?"

"Yep. It won't change from here" he replied putting his empty beer on the coffee table.

"That's not very nice" she joked.

Gaby finally hung up. "Will you go get dressed? You see how late it is?"

"You kept me from sleeping too late babe."

She stroked his butt from one hand, holding her coffee with the other. She kissed him on is neck which made him shiver.

"Alright I let you deal with your business I go take a shower" she said on her way back to her bedroom.

Gaby looked at her as she was leaving the room, her night dress was so transparent he could see her butt. He stroked his beard and turned to Dean.

"Are you ok? You haven't answered my last calls."

"I warned you I have to behave now or it's jail. I'm kinda tired of it."

"I see… so you want to be back in the cage?"

"Yes. The job is great but it's poorly paid."

Gaby sat in front of him on the coffee table.

"There is a fight this weekend if you want." He proposed.

Dean looked at him smiling with an empty look on his face.

"You sure you're ok? I can still count on you right?" Gaby worried.

"I haven't called to dump you Gaby you know me."

Gaby stood up.

"When are you free?"

"Saturday and Sunday." Dean replied.

"I planned a fight with Jet on saturday night but he's still healing from his last fight with The Hill so… you could do it?"

"He won't like it." Dean said standing up.

"Don't worry he'll fight next weekend. He's in such bad shape he would lose anyway."

"You already know my opponent?"

Gaby went to his desk, took a key from his pocket and opened the first drawer.

"No, I'll call you to let you know where we'll meet and who he is as soon as I'll know. Shark is organizing the fight this time and you know he likes surprises."

He searched a few seconds in the drawer and turned to give Dean a wad of bills.

"1500$, it's for your last fight. You forgot to come and take it."

Dean took the money and put it in his jacket pocket without checking.

"That's because I was in jail in case you forgot."

"I know. Some random disappointed gambler tricked us. He won't do it again." Gaby smiled.

Dean frowned.

"Don't make that face he's not dead."

"Ok I'm going." Dean replied nodding.

"So soon?" Gaby asked surprised. "You've been here for 5 minutes you could at least talk to me about your new job or this Deveraux guy…"

"Gaby we're not best friends."

"I thought we were more than business partners at least."

"We are but it doesn't mean we're friends." He replied waving at him "I'll wait for your call."

He closed the door to stop Gaby from replying.

On his way back he stopped to buy a six pack and a magazine. He smiled looking at all the bills in his pocket. He sat in his car and looked at the magazine closely. When he was ready he turned the car on and went to the trouble spot of the city.

Of course he paid for prostitutes, he never knew how to love a woman. He had no attention for his partners. He made them suffer most of the time and he decided they didn't deserve this, he wasn't worth it anyway. At least here they knew how it was and there was nothing to build. Sex was just a physical need for him whether he did it alone or with someone like today.

Most of the girls here knew him. Some of them didn't even want to see him again and some of them just accepted him as he was, after all he was good looking and paid well. They knew what his life was when they saw all of his scars and how he was fighting in the Cage. In a bed he was wild too.

He stopped at Monica's. He entered and waited for the girls to come over him. For this afternoon it was Chacha, a Porto Rican girl as obsessed as Dean was about violence. He smiled at her.

They went upstairs in a room with soft light. Dean knew that room very well. She started right after they entered, she knew waiting was not his thing. She took off her bra while he took his shirt off. She couldn't help but was a little sad when she saw his scars everywhere on his body. Those would never disappear.

Dean cupped his breast without waiting more. She sank her hand in his pants and he groaned at her touch. He laid her on the bed and took her panties off while she was taking his boxer down, then she opened a condom with her teeth and smiled.

If you needed to compare their action, it was closer to rape than making love. Chacha stared at the ceiling her eyes half closed and her hands scratching at his back. She loved it, this kind of violence was ok for them both.

It was quick but good as usual, Chacha was satisfied. Dean didn't care that much, he only needed this to relieve his body, he wasn't searching for pleasure. Affection, tenderness or love was nothing he knew anyway. He lost that part after Sam's death.

He left 100$ on the table, put his clothes back on and left without a word. Chacha smiled… he paid well.

When he parked the Impala in the yard the night was falling. He went out of the car, took his six pack and went back to his place.

"You come to eat Castiel?"

He didn't react. He was looking at Dean going away.

"Castiel?" Garth repeated. He saw him turning over. He had a bandage on his forehead where the skin was injured because of the previous hit on the window. He came to Garth and sat down and didn't move. Garth knew he would need to feed him tonight.

Castiel was staring at the wall in front of him while eating. Garth talked to him about his day but he didn't hope for an answer, Castiel was mute. He didn't even hope for any reaction actually, he knew Missouri was the only lucky one deserving this favor from him. He just needed to talk about his life, his problems and his happiness and Castiel was the perfect guest: always listening, never interrupting.

Dean didn't stay long in the dinner room that night. He ate his burger fast and left soon after. Phil had no opportunity to even talk to him a little. At another table across the room Missouri was talking to Mary. Dean thought it should've been a very serious conversation considering the face of the manager and the begging look in the nurse's eyes.

End of chapter III

**I never ask after review but for this fic I do it**

**Because for me, it's not just a fic but also a way to share the distress of the victims…**

**Thank you **


	4. The sound of silence

**First I would like to thank you to follow this fic…**

**I know this story is sometimes hard to read but never forget this… Hope and light still there…**

**WARNING : T+**

**CHAPTER 4: THE SOUND OF SILENCE**

The birds singing, the sound of rain, snow falling down the roof in a soft noise, the wind between the tiles, the sun bringing life through its warmth, the wood beams…

The sound of his silence…

She was coming 2 hours a day, sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less to break his silent kingdom with her loud and high voice. She was not talking, she was creaking like the trapdoor she was opening every day.

One day he tried to open it too because he was curious and was violently thrown back in a terrorizing and painful shock. She electrified it just to be sure he wouldn't flee. He was so used to be here he's never even thought about it before. Or maybe he thought about it once or twice but forgot.

He looked down from the skylight to the walls. There was shadows on them, it was like the sun was drawing birds and erased them right after. He was drawing too when he was little, but she took his paper and pencils away at the same time she stopped teaching him how to read and write.

She said he wasn't talented, she reproached him for being a huge and never-ending disappointment. When she said that the first time he looked at her very confused, he didn't know what she meant, he didn't know what a disappointment was. She said he was very lucky she was taking care of him because who would want to care about such a monster? She said he was ugly, deformed and stupid. She said God put him on her way to save him from hell.

God… She was always talking about God, quoting the Bible to justify her actions. Of course she forgot about the verses about love and tolerance, but he remembered he's read it when she left the book on the shelf. She thought he was stupid and couldn't read but he could actually read and remember a lot of things.

A piece of stone fell from the wall one day and he realized he could draw on the brick walls with it. Those walls which intensified both the cold and the heat, those walls which breathed in rhythm with his life. She tolerated what she called his "scribbles". One day he drew her face, it was almost perfect but when she saw her reflection on the brick wall her face froze in anger. He gave her a present, she thanked him with a beating.

From this day he wouldn't draw anymore.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean finally received Gaby's text to confirm the fight, he would wait for him at his place next Saturday 6.30 pm. The fight would take place in an empty warehouse away from midtown at 9 pm. His opponent will be Fish, Dean winced. He knew him, he's fought with him before and he lost against this fish-man who fought so easily he seemed to swim in the cage.

He breathed and answered Gaby "See ya tomorrow." He put his phone back in his pocket and continued cleaning Shannon's room, one of the few patients he has met. She was sitting on her bed, swaying and hitting her back against the wall in a very annoying rhythm. Her mouth was a bit open and she was drooling , staring at an invisible point right in front of her with an empty look the whole time he was here. It was way better when the rooms were empty, at least he could forget he was working in a psychiatric hospital among crazy people and lost causes.

He was closing the supply closet's door when he heard Mary calling him. He turned around and she smiled at him.

"Would you have a few minutes to talk please?"

"Sure Ma'am."

She pouted but Dean still didn't want to call her Mary. He followed her quietly.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Missouri talked to her about Castiel's reaction but Mary thought she was seeing signs that weren't existing. To be sure though she would check it was really something improbable because Missouri was not the kind of nurse to say things like that with no reason, especially about Castiel who was her favorite here.

So when she saw Dean finishing his shift this Thursday she jumped on the occasion and climbed the stairs in a rush. She went to Castiel's room and stood next to him, he was still at the same place, at the window, he rarely moved from there except to eat or go to the bathroom. He didn't react to her presence, it seemed he was fixing the emptiness, lost in his silence. A few seconds later, Dean opened the mansion's front door and went out. Castiel saw him through the window and his eyes fell on him and followed him. Mary seemed more worried than happy about his reaction. Of course she was happy Castiel was finally reacting to someone outside his room than wasn't Missouri, but she was worried because she couldn't see what positive results she could get with these two broken souls meeting.

She talked about it to Missouri who was more than determined to try it.

"We still don't know anything about Castiel. Where does he come from? Who he really is? How old is he exactly? What's his real name? We just know he lived in hell for years. Look at him Mary, he's almost dead. If this man can give him at least one tiny spark of life it will mean we brought a miracle."

"You and I both know cases like him are lost causes. He suffered too much and too long, but you're right about one thing: we don't know anything about the hell he lived in. Do you really thing bringing all those memories to him now would bring something positive in long term for him?"

"Who's talking about bringing bad memories?" Missouri asked looking down. "I'm convinced he remembers everything, we don't need to bring the memories back because they're still here with him every day and his silence is just a punishment he inflicts to himself. I've known a lot of Elizabeth McLeans and a lot of John Winchesters, they always survive but their victims are broken forever. They all think they deserve what happens to them and they deserve hell."

She twisted her fingers nervously. "You're the manager of this hospital so it's your decision, but I'm absolutely convinced those two have to meet."

"What if it doesn't work Missouri?"

"What do we have to lose?"

"Nothing… but they could lose everything."

"They already lost everything" Missouri whispered.

Mary looked at the nurse turning her cup of coffee in her hands.

"I will think about it, and fate will do the rest."

Missouri gave her a surprised look.

"I'll let you know about my decision soon. But for now…" she stood up "we have work to do."

She smiled and left with her cup of coffee.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean sat down in front of Mary. She observed him for a while.

"Phil asked if he could take a week off. I can't refuse because he hasn't take a vacation for almost a whole year."

He didn't react.

"I know I ask a lot from you Dean, more hours, helping Mark…" she posed.

"I don't mind. Otherwise I would've told you."

"I hope so." She smiled and got more comfy in her chair. "You wanted to take care of the East quarter didn't you?"

She saw his face lighting up a little.

"You want me to be in charge of the East quarter during his vacation?" Dean asked.

"I wanted to ask Garth first but…"

Dean had a tiny smile and Mary frowned.

"Why are you so enthusiast about the East quarter? You think it's like a zoo and you'll get to observe the animals in their cages?" She said that with a bit of anger and coldness.

Dean tensed on his chair, he was a bit vexed.

"No." He replied quickly as cold as she sounded. He looked down holding on his anger.

"You need to tell me the truth Dean, why? Or I can't let you work there and I'll find someone else to do it. I can't take any risk, for my patients and for me."

They stayed silent a long moment.

"My brother ended up in a padded cell in St Denis." Dean said in a shaky voice.

"St Denis?" Mary leaned on his desk. "Dean?"

He looked at her and saw a soft look on her eyes, she was full of compassion. In his own eyes there was only contained anger and distress though.

"He strangled our mother… and then he waited for my dad to come back home sitting in the living room's chair, and he cut his throat." He explained in a cold tone.

"After the Court process, psychiatrists declared him irresponsible… schizophrenic… bullshit! They just couldn't understand… no one could." He let go in a whisper. "He was transferred in St Denis where he ended up killing himself. There you know, this is the truth: he was not crazy, my brother wasn't crazy, he wasn't irresponsible, he was just a FREAKING VICTIM among others and everybody GAVE UP ON HIM!" he screamed.

He stood up and left the room saying "Go fuck yourselves!" and slammed the door behind him.

He exploded in the wrong place, for bad reasons and in front of the wrong person. He was enraged about this stupid uncontrolled reaction and his weakness.

The Impala left loudly and Dean disappeared for the rest of the day.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

It was silent when he came back home.

"Sam are you here?"

No answer. He looked in the hall, his schoolbag was here so he probably was back from college already. Dean hung his jacket and saw someone lying on the kitchen's floor.

"Sam?"

He panicked and rushed into the kitchen, but Sam was not on the floor, it was his mother, her eyes bulging, her mouth hanging with a piece of tongue showing out. A strong ammoniac smell made Dean wince. He bent over her lifeless body and noticed blue marks on her neck.

"You son of a bitch… I'm going to kill you!" he growled.

He opened the kitchen drawer and took a big knife.

"WHERE ARE YOU SON OF A BITCH?" he yelled in tears.

He rushed into the living room and saw Sam sitting on the armchair with a threatening smile on his bloody face. He was holding a huge knife in his hand, the blade was red.

"Sammy…" Dean breathed out.

He followed his brother's eyes looking right in front of him. The knife he was holding fell on the floor and he suddenly puked.

There he was, sitting against the television, his father's throat was cut, full of blood. The cut was so deep his head was hanging and threatened to fall off his body. His eyes were frozen in terror, the same terror the boys had in their eyes when they were with their father.

Dean took his head in his hand and cried.

"Oh Sammy what did you do?"

He came closer to him, he still had this scary smile on his face.

"Cut the pig's throat… Strangled the sow."

Then he straightened on his chair and stared at his brother.

"Tiger won." Sam gave him a deep and full of happiness smile.

Dean took the knife from his hand and put it on the floor. Sam didn't resist, he was gone already. Dean took his face between his hands, put it in his shoulder and cried holding him tight.

"Sammy… my Sammy… forgive me…please forgive me…"

Sam was 17, he died 2 years later after his last suicide attempt. Dean tried to transfer him to another place to help him feel better but what could a young man do in front of the resistance of justice?

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Mary was reading a case when someone knocked on the door.

"Yes, come in."

Dean appeared with a sad and tired face.

"Dean…" She stood up worried but smiling at him. She would have hugged him but she knew it wasn't appropriate.

"If you still want me to be in charge of the East quarter… I'm in. You just have to change my shifts so I can still clean the West quarter too." His voice was deep.

"Suzanne actually offered her help for next week, she will be in charge of the West quarter but won't be able to help on Wednesday as it's her free day. She's currently in training. This is why I hired you in the first place, you had to replace her for 6 months till her training's done."

"So when do I start?"

"Next Tuesday. Phil will explain to you what the job consists of next Monday. You'll work with him that day."

He nodded and was about to leave when she said "Dean I… I wanted to apologize for my previous behavior."

"It's ok. I'm sorry too. We're good."

Then he went out without giving her the time to answer.

She sat back and wondered if it wasn't a mistake, but Missouri was right about something: they've already lost everything. Who knew what fate would bring? She tried to convince herself it was destiny.

"Alea jacta est…"

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

When Missouri entered his room he wasn't standing at the window as he always was. She looked at his bed, the cover was gone so she knew. She turned around the bed and saw him sleeping on the floor. He did that quite a few times, curled up, showing a scar at the bottom of his back. He was holding the cover tight.

Missouri leaned her back against the window and observed him. Was he still a boy? Was he a man? Has he ever been a child?

"How can someone end up like that? Human being will always surprise me pushing cruelty further and further. My poor Castiel… God only knows how much you suffered." She exhaled looking at the ceiling.

"In moments like this I wonder if he really exists. How can he let this happen? How many Castiels are suffering in total indifference? How many will end up here? How many will die in silence? How many more will I have to take care about?"

She stepped forward. "This is a hopeless quest, but I'll never give up. More people need to be saved."

She felt observed. Garth was looking at her, he smiled tenderly.

"Don't worry I'll watch over him."

"I know. See you on Monday Garth."

"See ya Missouri."

Missouri looked at him one last time and closed the door on his nightmare as she left.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"Look at that!" she pointed her chubby belly. "This is your fault, YOUR FAULT!"

He didn't understand what she was saying. She screamed for a few minutes. He was curled up against the wall.

"You'll pay for that! I'll get rid of this abomination and then it will be your turn."

At least she wasn't hitting this time.

She came back two days later with a pale face.

"No man will want me from now on!" she stepped forward. He couldn't stand up he was too weak so he stared at her.

"But you love me right?" she kneeled next to him. "My beautiful angel… you love me right?"

She caressed his hair and he tensed. She ran her finger down his chest, he was begging her to stop with his eyes.

"You're beautiful… more beautiful than in my dreams."

She slid her hand in his pants smiling at him.

"You will love me forever, angel… forever."

She closed her eyes. On that day, pleasure won over reason.

His desire woke him up and he looked panicked under his cover, searching for her. He hid further in his bed covering his face with his blanket.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean was early. He parked in front of the building but stayed in his car. He was nervous, his hands were shaking full of adrenaline. He stared at his mirror view and get lost. A knock on the window woke him up from his thoughts, Gaby was here in a nice suit. Dean opened the window.

"Why don't you come in?"

"I just got here."

"Follow me it won't be long. About 20 minutes."

"Okay." Dean agreed.

"I'll take my BMW tonight."

Dean followed him and saw Bibi waving at him from the walkway. He didn't answer.

On his way Dean surprised himself thinking about next Monday. Why did he want to do it so bad? She was right. He didn't lie when he talked about Sam but it wasn't related to his work at the mansion. He simply didn't know why, that was it. He was probably just curious or had a sick interest in doing it.

He was working in a place full of crazy people at least he could share their universe. What healthy person would agree to be locked in a cage to fight after all? He didn't care about money he just wanted to find a meaning to his pain eating him from the inside, fighting it out and share this burden with his opponents.

Gaby's car parked on a huge parking lot. It would be six fights tonight, Dean would be part of the second one. There was a bodyguard at the entrance checking invitations as they were very private events. He waved at Gaby when he recognized him, then he greeted Dean who did greet him back.

The warehouse has been rearranged, dozens of guests were already here, they invited 100 guests tonight. The Cage was in the center, full of lights, with sawdust on the floor to soften the shocks and to absorb blood. There was an icecream truck turned into a bar with music next to it.

Dean felt his muscles tensing, he saw "The Killer" near the front door. He was a tremendous fighter, a mountain of muscles, a real wall. He only lost 2 times in his career.

Gaby greeted Shark and thanked him for the organization but Dean wasn't listening to them, he was staring at the cage. He closed his eyes and heard the shouts of the crowd like he was back in antic Rome.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

"Wow calm down Rage it's just me!"

"I already told you not to do this anymore Black J., one day it will end up badly."

The big black guy laughed.

"So what about your little jail vacation?"

"Very relaxing." Dean joked. "Who are you fighting with?"

"Guess…" He said nodding at The Killer.

"Oh crap."

"Don't worry, I'll destroy him." Black J. said pointing at his biceps.

"If you say so…"

Gaby waved at him.

"I gotta go prepare" Dean said.

"Good luck"

"You too."

Sitting on a chair, Dean was looking at Gaby bandaging his hands. He gave him instructions but he wasn't listening, he was staring at the curtain separating him from the crowd. He heard them scream to support Black J., and then a very loud disappointing shout. Dean figured Black J. lost the fight.

"And as usual you haven't heard a single thing I've said. You will do whatever you want again."

"Gaby this is not my first fight." Dean sighed.

"Yeah yeah I know… Excuse me for worrying uh" Gaby pouted.

"You're not worrying for me Gab, you're worrying for your money."

"Yeah well… it's the same. Don't play with words."

He patted his shoulder, it was time to go. Dean took his red and black head protection. He loved that sensation to finally be alive, to exist even if it was through a new fight. He entered the Cage barefoot, wearing black shorts, and placed his teeth protections.

Fish, his small but vivacious Asian opponent, entered later under the crowd's shouts. He was wearing Thaï-boxing clothes even if he was from Vietnam. Shark introduced them, and there were more shouts and more dollar bills rising in the crowd. A white clothed man was taking bets. At the first hit he would stop. Dean felt Gaby's look on him, he was sitting in the front row with Bibi at his side, she was very excited. She loved those fights so much she was attending almost every time, even the ones without Gaby's fighters.

The music stopped, only a few guest's screams resonated. No observation round.

Fish made the first move. Dean avoided his foot and hit his opponent's back which made him fall on his knees. Dean bent over to hit him on his neck but the young Asian guy got up using his hands before he could do anything else. He threw both his feet in Dean's chest forcing him to step back exhaling. Fish punched him right in his face, Dean answered with his foot hitting his leg violently. Fish fell but managed to punch him again, this time on his neck. Dean flew back hitting his head on the cage bars, making the crowd scream even more.

Compared to the previous fight, this one was less violent but fast. The way they fought was almost elegant. After ten minutes, Fish's nose was bleeding and so was Dean's eyebrow, despite their protections.

One more punch in the head and Fish swayed. Dean took this opportunity to rush to his legs, lift him and throw him on his back to the floor with rage. The shock was so violent it took Fish's breath away. Dean rode him and started to punch. Fish tried to escape and to hit his ribs but Dean wasn't Dean anymore… He was Rage. He was uncontrollably punching Fish again and again, supported by the crowd's shouts. After a while Fish wasn't moving anymore but Dean was still punching.

He heard a voice "Rage stop! You won! Dude calm down!" and someone caught his arms to stop him from hitting. He turned around ready to beat the one who did that but he stopped when he saw it was Shark.

"It's over man, you won. Relax."

Shark took his hand and lifted it proudly in the air.

"Here is the winner! RAAAAAAAAAAGGEEEE!"

The crowd screamed and Rage was gone. Dean was back, watching the doctor checking for Fish who was now moving weakly. Dean breathed deeply.

He turned around and crossed Gaby's content look.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He came back early Sunday morning. It was his free day and he was dreaming about sleeping. All his muscles and his injured eyebrow were sore. He touched his bandage wincing.

"Shit!"

When he looked up he saw Mark.

"You ran into a bus?"

"No, a rickshaw." Dean joked.

Mark was confused and Dean walked by with a smile on his face.

"You want breakfast? I've made French toasts."

"Give me five minutes." Dean said entering his room.

He opened his nightstand drawer, took the bills out of his pocket and threw them in it. He stood still looking at the photo of Sam and him in the drawer. He must've been 10 at that time, Sam was almost 8.

He closed the drawer brutally and winced. He lifted his shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw he had a contusion on his right side. He touched it, it was sore but nothing seemed to be broken. One more pain considering his broken rib was not healed yet. He went out through the yard to go to the refectory.

Castiel knocked his forehead on the window, bringing blood under his bandage and making the window all dirty.

"Good morning Castiel." Mary greeted.

She stepped forward and observed him for a while. She sighed.

"Armand, would you please change his bandage?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Thank you."

He sighed… He would need a lot of patience today.

End of chapter IV


	5. Just in a reflexion

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**WARNING : M**

**CHAPTER 5 : JUST IN A REFLECTION**

It was cold and snowy since the beginning of the day. A thick layer of snow was making them walking slower. Dean was holding his schoolbag and the one of his brother who was shivering in his coat. He had bulged eyes because he's been sick for a few days and Dean was really worried. He looked in the bathroom closet the day before to find some medication and he found only paracetamol … better than nothing. He couldn't hope more from his parents anyway so he had to take care of his brother himself. He gave him the medication and the fever stopped for the night, but in the morning it was back already.

"You have to be brave and get up Sammy, I'll take you to the school nurses so they can give you something to get better." He said kneeling next to him and caressing his hair to help him feel better, then he kissed him on his warm forehead.

John followed Dean's move on his brother's face, he looked at his fingers playing with his hair. Too busy being worried for Sam, Dean didn't hear his dad entering the room. He had no time to react and felt his father's hand catching his shirt's collar. He tried to get away from him but his collar almost strangled him.

John dragged him around like he was a potatoes bag. He tried to get up but his dad was too strong for him. He opened the bedroom's door and threw Dean on the bed. His eyes had a scary color all of a sudden, and Dean was scared because he never saw this look before. John caught his foot and pulled him over, Dean screamed. Sam was too weak to get up, and his mom crashed in the sofa too drunk to wake up.

John straddled him to stop him from moving, he was literally stuck under his father's weight looking at him with envy. He punched him with all his strength, John caught his hands and crashed his arms on the bed.

"As I see you like to caress little boys?" he spited in his face. Dean looked away, panicked.

"He's sick, he needs me!"

"I'm sick too… so I need you too." John replied still holding his son's fists with one hand. He stepped back a little and Dean felt almost naked under his look.

"Dad…please no…dad…" and he started crying.

Dean never called his father like that, he hoped those words would wake him up, he hoped this nightmare would stop.

"Be nice with your daddy." He said starting to caress his crotch. Dean was begging him with his look, between the tears.

"Dad…"

"Daddy will take care of you" he whispered in his ear.

Dean closed his eyes, he was nauseous when he felt his penis reacting to his dad's hands.

"See? I'm a good father. Admit you like it."

His breath smelt terrible and Dean wanted to throw up. He felt his dad's hand opening his pants, he tried to get away again with all his strength, but even drunk his father was too strong for him to run away.

He saw his eyes when he looked at his penis: "like father like son" John said caressing him again.

He would never forget those words, he graved them in his memory forever. He stopped moving, stopped crying, and he came without feeling any pleasure.

His very first sexual experience was a rape… his own father raped him just like that.

"Your turn" John said in Dean's ear.

Dean screamed hoping his mother would wake up, but only Sam was awake, too sick to move, curled up under his blanket hearing his brother calling for help.

"Please dad no!" he pleaded struggling.

"Ok you choose: it's you or Sam."

Dean froze, out of breath. John smiled opening his pants, his eyes were shining with alcohol and desire. Dean cried quietly staring at the ceiling. He felt his dad's penis on his chest and started to shake, closing his eyes hard. John caught his hand and put it on his erection.

"Show me how much you love me!"

He wanted to throw up.

"Think about Sam…"

He had no choice, he started to rub clumsily. He was sobbing but he heard his father moaning, and then he collapsed on the bed next to Dean after a weird hitting noise.

Sam was standing here with his baseball bat in his hand, shaky and in tears. He lifted the bat ready to hit a second time but Dean raised his hand to stop it. Sam let it go, collapsed in his brother's arms and they stayed like this for a while.

Dean finally looked up and met his mother's eyes. Leaning against the door, she was staring at the bed and at John with his pants down. She turned to Dean who was pulling his pants up with his eyes all red. He left the room with his brother and Karen heard him throw up in the bathroom.

When they came back from school that afternoon, Karen was waiting for them with cases and bags.

"Go get your stuffs, we're leaving."

Dean felt Sam's hand leaving his and he ran upstairs. Dean stood there in front of his mother, letting his schoolbag fall on the floor.

"Mom…"

She stepped forward and put her hand on his cheek.

"He will never touch you again. Never. I promise."

Dean closed his eyes feeling the softness of her hand, he let himself drown in this beautiful lie.

They left and went to one of their mom's coworker. Their dad came back the day after to apologize. Two days after, without even opening their bags, Karen took them back to their house and to their father, but even if sometimes he was still looking at Dean the same dirty way, the rape of January stayed the one and only. One more indelible mark graved in his mind and in his body.

They day after, Dean stole a knife in a local shop: He would never let that happen again. He gave the knife up only when their parents died.

John was beating them less and less as they were growing up and became more confident. The first time Dean punched his father he collapsed and passed out. He was 15 and this was the end of the beatings. The insults and the blaming never stopped though.

John turned his anger to their mother then. Dean never defended her, Sam neither. She chose her husband over her sons. They would never forgive her for that.

It was only Dean and Sam, or Sam and Dean… two young men against the world.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Phil typed the access code the East quarter's main door. Dean noted the 6 numbers and tried to remember them. Phil pushed the door and said "Let's go!"

He was pushing the supply cart. They both entered and the door closed behind them.

"Don't forget to always check if the door is locked." He said as he did so.

They crossed the hallway and arrived in front of another gate.

"On your right is the occupational therapist office, and on your left the nurses office."

Phil searched for a key hanging on his belt.

"This key unlocks this gate, you can't go wrong it's the biggest one." He turned the key two times in the lock and pushed the gate. Dean entered and he closed it right behind him. They were in a long corridor leading to a lot of doors.

"How many rooms are there?" asked Dean surprised.

"About fifty but you have only 35 to clean. The other ones are in the second part, in a second corridor, after one more gate..." He pointed "Authorized personnel only."

Contrary to the West quarter there was absolutely no ornament in the corridor. The walls were white and the doors were light green. From where he stood Dean could see tiny windows on each door.

"You'll need an access code for each door." Phil handed a note pad to Dean. He wrote each name and each code in front of each room number.

"Don't lose it" he winked.

Dean stayed quiet.

"You'll figure it's not always that quiet. They scream most of the time, I guess we're just lucky today". He walked to the first door.

"First thing you have to check…" he pointed at the first page of his notepad "the letter in front of each name."

"What?"

"If there is an "X" you enter ONLY if the patient's not here. You'll know that if you ask Garth or Armand for the planning each morning, so you'll know where they are at what time and for how long.

Dean looked at the tiny window.

"Room 23… you'll notice there is absolutely no logical order for the rooms… ok we don't really care about that but still… so?" he nodded at the note pad.

"Hum… 23… Felicia… A." Dean read.

"A" means you can go without worrying about anything. Poor Felicia is always tied when she's alone or she'd rip her own skin. They try not to give medication too much, they don't like that here."

Dean looked at the window.

"You always have to look and check everything is ok in there before you step in. Always." Phil insisted "you can be very surprised about what you'll find sometimes so you better be careful."

He pointed at a small box with a red light next to the door. Dean typed the access code and the light turned green.

"In case of emergency there is a safety system which opens all the rooms at the same time from the front desk. Just a precaution."

Dean went to a few rooms with Phil who introduced him to each patient they met, then he showed him the planning.

"You'll have to plan your work using this. Each room must be cleaned at 2 or 3 pm, boss' orders."

"What time you start?"

"8 am after the first breakfast shift. You can pause but you don't always have time, it depends how dirty the rooms are." He rolled his eyes "especially the bathrooms."

"Well it's not so much different from the West quarter after all. I don't understand why we can't both do this and switch sometimes."

"You only saw the first rooms… the most docile patients. Wait for the rest before judging, and as I've said, they are particularly quiet today. I can guaranty some days they are unbearable." Phil looked at his watch, they were late.

Next room was indeed less pleasant.

"This is the worst I'm warning you. Edward's favorite game is to draw with his poop on the walls. You can imagine how appetizing it is." Phil joked.

"Really smart…" Dean smiled.

Room 19… He looked inside through the window and saw he wasn't here, so they entered.

"Oh God…" Dean said raising his hands to his face.

"Nice perfume right?" Phil smiled patting Dean's shoulder to support him.

"There is no way to bring some fresh air in here?" Dean asked waving.

"Air conditioned and door opened! You can't open the windows."

"Holy shit!... no pun intended" Dean said looking at the walls painted with poop.

"And today is not so bad…" Phil said.

"Can't they tie him?"

"He would shit on him so… poop on the walls or on him… they chose."

"Nice for us!"

"Yeah you're here just for one week don't complain. I have this every day! You understand me better now?"

"Well I had shit in West quarter too…but it wasn't such a master piece!" Dean put his gloves on and he started laughing.

Castiel jumped a little when he heard that sound. He's heard it before, a few months ago. He kept looking at the sky but he didn't stop listening. He liked that soft sound. He tilted his head… Has he ever done this too before?

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

She climbed the ladder and fell her face on the floor because of her dress at the top of it.

He felt a strange sensation in his gut and burst out laughing. He stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"You find this funny?" she asked angrily.

"I'm going to cure you from laughing because of people's bad luck!"

He stepped back and curled up against the wall looking at the floor.

"Look at me!"

She stepped forward hitting the whip on her leg in rhythm. It was her new favorite toy.

"Look at me!" she yelled and he had to look at her. "Was it a good laugh? It felt good?"

He shook his head, he was scared and he was staring at the whip.

"It won't be long…"

It was one of the rare times she whipped on his face. He felt his eyebrow's skin ripping. Blood fell down to his eye so he couldn't see so well. He wanted to touch it but she whipped on his forearm. Each move he made she hit him. It was the one and only time of his life he ever laughed. The scar on his eyebrow would forever be the mark of his laughter.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Phil paused in front of room 14.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

He looked inside and saw him standing at the window barefoot in his white pajamas. Dean looked at his notepad.

"Castiel." Dean frowned.

"The attic boy" Phil added.

"I've heard of that story."

"Yeah it was in the news a few months ago."

Dean looked at Phil "What? It's him?" he asked surprised. He looked inside one more time.

"But he's not a boy!"

"He's not an adult either." Phil added.

"What's his story?" Dean asked leaning against the wall and staring at Phil.

"We don't really know the details. Some kids found him when they entered his abandoned house to play around. He was so skinny it's a miracle he survived. The house's owner died and she had no family so nobody searched the house after she died."

"How is that even possible? You can't keep someone locked for so long without anybody to notice!"

Well… after all… people closed their eyes around him to not see he and his brother's pain though it was right in front of them. Dean looked at him a long time by the window again.

"So what's his problem?"

"As I told you we don't really know. He doesn't talk, he doesn't show any emotion except fear sometimes, he spends his days looking outside the window, he can't bare people's contact. It took weeks to finally be able to shave him and they had to be very quiet or he would freak out."

"Freak out?" Dean asked looking at Phil.

"He curled up against the wall and hit everyone. He can be strong when he wants even if he looks weak."

"Strength of distress." Dean whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Ok let's do this. This room is making me uncomfortable so the soonest it'll be done the better I'll feel."

"He's clean it won't be long."

"You're talking like he's a dog Phil."

"That's not what I meant though." He replied nodding for him to type the code. "We talk and talk but we still have ten rooms to clean!"

"Hello Castiel." Phil always greeted patients and said to Dean the manager ordered it, just to remember they were human beings and not numbers on a notepad.

"This is Dean, he will clean your room this week."

No reaction.

"Dean!" Phil insisted.

"Yeah hum… Hi Cas." Dean let out casually.

"Cas?" Phil noticed.

"Yeah that or something else… He doesn't care anyway."

He didn't look at him and stayed quiet although in every other room he asked Phil tons of questions about the patients. Phil observed him, he was working very fast.

"Dean is everything ok? Is he making you that uncomfortable?" Phil asked looking at Castiel who still hasn't move from the window.

"Done!" Dean finally said. "Let's go."

"Man!" Phil let out putting his things away. He pushed the cart out of the room.

"You forgot your rag on the table."

"Damn it!" Dean grumbled.

He quickly took it back and glanced at the window. Castiel was looking at him through the reflection. Dean read a nameless distress in his eyes and felt sick. Castiel was staring now.

Phil observed the scene, they were both looking at each other in the reflection. Castiel was finally sharing something with somebody else. Missouri was right. Phil smiled, he would really enjoy his free week!

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Mary asked him to come in her office. Missouri was here, standing nervously behind her desk.

"Sit down Phil."

He looked at them a bit worried. She opened some file.

"You know you still have a vacation to take?"

"Yes I wanted to take it two months ago but it turned out I couldn't."

He heard Missouri sigh.

"What is going on here?" Phil asked curious.

"What about next week?" Missouri suddenly asked.

Mary turned around and stared at her.

"What the hell?" Phil was now very uncomfortable.

"I'm going to be honest with you Phil" she sighed "Missouri would like… Castiel and Dean to meet each other." She exhaled and leaned in her chair.

Phil stared at her.

"Here it is." Mary said turning to Missouri "I told you it was a bad idea."

"I didn't say it was." Phil replied.

"Ah!" Missouri let out crossing her arms.

"And should I ask why?" Phil asked.

"Well because she is absolutely sure Dean is making Castiel react." Mary answered coldly.

"You saw it yourself!" Missouri defended. Mary scowled.

"Is that true?" Phil asked surprised.

"Yes." Missouri confirmed. "But Mary wants fate to do the rest." She added moving her hands.

"So am I fate now?" Phil joked.

"Well… your vacation is." Missouri replied.

"Stop it!" Mary said taking her head in her hands. "Do you realize that what is happening here is against all our profession's principles? We have rules to follow even if for some people here it seems to be something very hard to do. We can't play with people's life or emotions."

"But if it can let Castiel out of his silence…" Missouri dared.

"Missouri… do you realize what you're saying? Dean or not Dean there will be no miracle!"

"Your lack of faith is impressive Mary. I never said he would walk on water like Jesus-Christ I know that! But if he can open up a little…" Missouri turned around the desk "we won't lose anything trying." She pouted. "I've been a nurse for 35 years you could at least give me the benefit of the doubt."

"You care about him too much Missouri just be careful."

"Careful about what?"

Phil was observing them debating in front of him, half curious and amused.

"What are you really hoping for?"

They jumped remembering he was here.

"Missouri hoped Castiel will have more reactions after meeting this man."

"… as he already reacted when he saw him by the window." Missouri added with a proud smile on her face.

"And if it really works what will happen next?"

"Yes Missouri, you and your huge experience tell us what we'll do next as Dean has no degree to play Sigmund Freud!"

"We'll let fate decide. Dean's not alone we're here too!"

"It's a big risk."

"It's no risk at all, it's just a cleaner sympathizing with a patient, how is that bad? It wouldn't be the first time anyway. Outside people have already been part of healing process. I'll be satisfied even with a simple smile from Castiel." She winked.

Mary sighed "after all… it's only for a week."

"Do you care if I want to take that vacation or not?" Phil asked shyly twisting his fingers.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"Dean"

He jumped. He didn't know how much time they stayed here looking at each other but when he got out of the room and looked back inside he knew something has changed in him. He saw in Castiel's eyes the same pain he's seen in Sam's eyes, or even in his own eyes when he was looking in a mirror. The look of people who lived the same hell but had no idea how to share it.

"See you tomorrow Cas…" he closed the door.

Dean had no interest for the last rooms and the last patients after that. He greeted them but he was sure he wouldn't even remember them the next day. Phil let him in his thoughts. He explained to him the different cases and the things he had to be careful about. Dean listened but didn't answer. He stayed in room 14.

They finished later than usual. Dean was very quiet. After they were done he couldn't resist looking at the door of room 14 on their way back. Phil noticed but didn't say anything. Dean would've denied it anyway. He offered him a coffee but Dean refused saying he was too tired.

"Have fun and get back in good shape!" Dean said to Phil in a fake happy voice.

Phil played along "Good luck for tomorrow! Watch out for the poop!"

Dean smiled "you brat!"

He crossed the yard and this time looked up searching for the third floor. He didn't see him but he felt he was here. Castiel put his forehead in the window.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Someone knocked.

"Come in!"

Phil stepped in the office.

"No need to wait for a whole week, fate strikes fast."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked fearing the answer.

"Love at first sight!" he joked.

"Phil!" Mary raised her voice.

"Missouri was right, they were made to meet."

"Alright… let's hope it won't lead to something bad."

"I think it's a good thing for both of them."

"A good thing?"

"They're both broken inside, it would be great if they could fix each other."

"Nice perspective." She replied nodding but still worried.

"Alright I'm going. See you next Monday .Call me if you need anything."

" Thank you Phil."

"It's ok. Bye." And he left.

Mary pushed a lock of hair off her forehead and sighed. What has she done? She usually was so clever and careful… Missouri was way too persuasive…

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean took his phone, hesitated a moment but finally dialed his number. It was the voicemail.

"Mr. Deveraux it's Dean Winchester. I wanted to talk to you but it's ok… I just want you to know everything is fine here and uh… thank you…for believing in me again." He paused "…bye!"

He hung up. He couldn't just ask an attorney some details about a patient just because they shared a look, it was dumb. Actually this whole story was dumb.

He needed to think about something else. He went out of his room with his magazine and locked in the bathroom. Hot water felt good, like a caress on his skin. He closed his eyes focusing on his magazine's pictures.

When he led his hand on his erection he suddenly saw his face… lying next to him…his look… his breath… his voice…

"Daddy will take care of you…"

He came in a raging voice falling in tears on the shower's floor. He curled up letting water purifying him and taking his pain away.

End of chapter V

**Never forget that the abuses in this story are a reality not a fiction**

**Hope to see you in the next chapter….**

**Thank you**


	6. Jimmy Hendrix ' way

**CHAPTER 6: JIMMY HENDRIX' WAY**

The attic wasn't isolated, the roof was too high and the room too big to keep the heat of the fire place which was placed in the center. It was too cold in winter and too hot in summer. He only liked spring and autumn because the temperature was more pleasant. He was alone in his prison, afraid to live and afraid to survive.

Winter was full of pain, it was too cold and he felt humidity inside his body reaching his bones and it was never leaving. His hands and feet were always frozen. A sweater and some socks weren't enough to keep the poor warmth of his weak body.

He was literally frozen. He touched his face and saw sweat on his fingers. He had trouble breathing and he was coughing a lot, so much he couldn't sleep anymore. He never slept a lot but this was even worse.

She was here watching him and he felt a mix of doubt and fear in her eyes. He's been sick for weeks and nothing she gave him seemed to make him feel better. She was losing him. He didn't want to get better at all, he was holding to the sickness very tight like it was a new hope for him: the hope to fall asleep and never wake up again.

He remembered this time very well because it was the only time she put her hands on him with no intention to hurt. No beating, no painful caress, just tenderness.

"You have to get better… God doesn't want you to let go, angel."

She pulled the lock of hair sticking on his forehead away and he shivered because of her touch, and then she kissed him.

"I won't let him take you away from me." She insisted on the last word.

Me… so it wasn't about him, it was all about her and her broken toy, her flesh doll losing its life. He felt it because of the words she said to him. It was not his pain that pushed her to act with such tenderness, it was just fear to lose something she owned.

He learnt how to read in her silence, in her looks and in her moves. He was feeling her emotions like she was a mirror reflecting his opposite.

She stood up all of a sudden and smiled for no reason… one of her weird smile.

"No question!" she affirmed. "He's mine!" she screamed looking at the skylight. She seemed to directly talk to that God she adored so much.

She came back a few hours later with that strange quiet man, another torturer who was following her like he was her shadow. He bent over the bed and lifted him with no caution, throwing him on his shoulder as easy as it'd be a bag full of feathers. He was so thin after all…

He was scared. If the strange man had put him on the floor he would've crawled to his bed even with no strength…

A corridor… and then she opened the door of a small colorful room. The man threw him on the bed and with a nod she made him go out.

She took clean pajamas and changed him as he was too weak to do it himself. He didn't complain, he became a puppet between her hands.

He observed every details of the room, trying to remember every smell and to keep every inch in mind. The sheets smelt very good, not like his mattress which smelt like dirt and pain. He closed his eyes tight when she changed her pants but nothing happened. He was still cold, his breath was shorter and shorter. Breathing was so painful… moving became so impossible!

She left the room. He would not cause any problem, he just couldn't do anything and the man was watching the door.

He didn't know how much time she left, he had no time notion except for the sun. He was still cold but he was relaxed. This room would be a little piece of heaven he would bring back to his hell. She came back with another pale and quiet man. He looked old and had the same look she always had, the same indifference.

"He's been like that for several days, Doctor. I gave him what you've prescribed but nothing seems to work."

The doctor took a chair and sat next to him. He didn't react, he still couldn't anyway. He let the doctor examine him even if he was terrorized by his tools, the way he touched him and even his look. If death had a face, it would be him.

He lifted his shirt and frowned looking at her with a suspicious look.

"My sister was beating him, she abandoned him here and I took care of him."

Her sister? … Her protection? …

He desperately tried to find the doctor's eyes but he would never even look at him, he would never talk to him either. He was only talking to her with complete disregard.

So it was true… He was nothing… his existence had no meaning except for pain. A new lock was keeping him in his attic. His stared at nothing, the room wasn't even here anymore.

He looked at the window: a bird seemed to look at him. It just saved his soul when it was about to leave forever. The crow flew and he felt a sudden pain in his arm. He turned his head and saw that the old man had put a needle in it. The liquid flowing under his skin burnt him and he managed to moan to express his pain.

"It's for your own good, angel." She faked still looking at the doctor and hoping he wouldn't ask any more questions. Why would he anyway? He had the same heartless look on his face. He was just one more sick person to cure. It didn't matter he was covered with scars and wasn't speaking anymore.

The doctor stood up.

"To be efficient, you should take him to the hospital. It's probably a chronic bronchitis."

"Chronic? What does that mean?"

"It means he probably had severe lung infections before but they were not treated properly and his lungs are now very weakened. Each cold or infection could make him sick again, making him weaker and weaker each time."

"I can't afford to take him to the hospital." She whined "My husband left me with tons of debts and I have no health insurance anymore." She said with her eyes wet.

He sighed turning to the bed. "I'll prescribe him something. Keep him warm and make him eat well and if in two days it's not better you'll really need to take him to the hospital or his life will be severely threatened."

She brought her hand to her face faking distress "Oh my God!"

The doctor put his hand on her arm as a sign of comfort. "He's tough don't worry, he'll get through this."

They left the room leaving him alone. They talked about him ignoring him, no look, no gesture but he was right next to them suffering!

He coughed and felt like an iron taste in his mouth… he was spiting blood.

He stayed in this room only a few days, in the heat of the sheets he never left only to go to the bathroom, supported by this man who never looked at him and never talked to him without her to order it. She cured him without any attention, forcing him to swallow small white bitter pills each morning. Those pills were making him nauseous and dizzy.

The fever left, he coughed less and he was not spiting blood anymore. Those ten days would be the only days he would spend out of his attic kingdom. The quiet man brought him back in the eleventh day, on his bed with a cover. There were used sweaters on the table.

He felt sick again the following years but he would never leave his attic again.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Missouri gave him his glass and put a small white pill on the table. He had to take it once a day but always refused to. She had to be very clever to trick him so he would actually swallow it without him to notice. She usually stood up sighing and crushed it in a glass of water, this was the only way he would take medication. She so wanted him to cooperate, it would mean he trusted her. But he never had. He wasn't even looking at her.

She remembered he violently attacked Garth when he tried to vaccinate him against tetanus. She never insisted again, more because she was scared he would hurt himself. Castiel never hurt her, he actually would never hurt anyone intentionally, he was flying from this monster haunting him. He was violent only when he was scared, fear was the only emotion he could express.

Castiel stood up and went to his window as usual. Each time he did this Missouri couldn't help being a little sad. Today she wouldn't receive anything from him, not even a single look, just his silence. For 4 months there had been no evolution, he just accepted their presence… at least it was a tiny victory. At least he found the strength to live which was a miracle for such a broken man.

She sighed and stood up "It a nice day today, don't you want to go out?"

He knocked his forehead on the window.

"Ok Castiel calm down I get it: you want to stay here. Alright it's your choice. See you tonight then." She said in a soft voice.

He stopped.

He was understanding and feeling everything and she knew it. He was just locked in his own prison and refused to let it go but he was not completely impervious to the world around him anyway. He was just protecting himself from what he lived and what he didn't want to live anymore because he knew it would destroy the few strength he finally found.

She couldn't blame him but couldn't stop hoping for someone to enter his prison and help him getting out or at least share it.

Why not breaking those walls?

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean woke up wincing, his whole body was sore from his last fighting and from his previous too long shower. He sat on the side of his bed and rubbed his face insisting on his eyes. He put some pants, sneakers and T-shirt on and quickly brushed his teeth, then he closed the door to his night full of nightmare.

He ate his breakfast quietly and alone. Garth walked by him with his plate and asked: "First day solo, is everything ok?"

Dean looked at him "Yeah it should be ok, Phil told me everything I had to know."

"Come to find me if you need anything."

"You wanna help me carrying my duster?"

Garth smiled "If it can help… well no kidding, sometimes patients can have strange reactions especially in this area and it can be confusing when you're not used to it."

He put his plate on the table and searched his pants pocket.

"You won't always know how to react when they have a panic attack or something… don't try anything stupid, there is no logic in them, at least not the same we have… just call a nurse or a caretaker it's our job. Do your job and we'll do our. No offense but it's not kindergarten here."

Dean nodded confirming he got the message without being offended. Garth gave him a piece of paper.

"This is today's planning."

"Thank you." Dean smiled.

"You're welcome. I'll give it to you each morning at breakfast and I'll tell Armand to do the same when I'm not here.

Dean smiled again.

"Have a good breakfast and don't forget my advice." He said going away.

He waved at him and Dean did the same finishing his cup of coffee.

He looked at the planning and the first thing he was surprised to search for was room 14 schedule. He realized it when his look was only searching for the name of Castiel. He didn't find it which meant he would be in his room all the time. He shook his head.

"What's wrong with me?"

He internally slapped himself and finished his breakfast.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He went to the first floor's nurse office to get his keys and checked he hasn't forgotten the precious notepad. He pushed his supply cart with shaky legs and waited for the elevator with a growing apprehension. After all he heard by Garth and Phil he was a little more worried he'd want to.

Dean never had social skills so he couldn't imagine what would happen in company of a crazy or sick person in distress. He probably wouldn't know what to do. He looked at the planning again: he decided to clean the rooms when the patients would not be here if possible, it was the best thing to do. He breathed deeply when the third floor's gate opened.

First day and first statement: Phil was right, they were screaming already, he could hear them from the corridor. They were moaning or yelling insults through the doors. Dean shivered but typed the six numbers to open the gate.

He walked straight without looking at the nurses' office or Leyla Fredges office so he didn't see Missouri closing her eyes and starting to pray God for one last chance.

Dean started with the last rooms of the area. He couldn't look inside the rooms of screaming patients. Tomorrow he would certainly ask if he could use his MP3 player when he worked. He never liked this modern thing, he was sort of old school on some points, he preferred the old crackling radio cassette player of his Impala, but it would be better than listening to the shouts and moans. It was way too creepy!

He looked at the planning again: room 10, empty. The patient was in the day room with four others. Of course he would have to clean the day room too. He didn't go with Phil the day before because they were late, Phil told Mary who coldly replied it shouldn't happen again.

Dean felt his nervousness leaving as he was working. He was actually singing to focus on his job and not on the noises and he noticed it had a strange consequence: some of the patients calmed down and it was quieter. He could still hear some people moaning but no one was screaming anymore.

Room 14… Castiel turned his back to the window and looked at his room's door. He tilted his head and his face softened… he was listening to Dean singing.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Sam was crying on his bed. Dean came in forcing a smile and went to him with a wet clothe in his hand. He gently put it on his injured eyebrow to clean the blood. He sat next to him on the bed when he felt his back hurt, bringing memories of the last beating.

When he was done he put the wet clothe on the nightstand and held his brother in his arms. Here in this old room where they were always hiding, he started to sing. It was clumsy at first but after a moment Sam let himself drown in his brother's voice.

He was singing "The River" by Bruce Springsteen.

Tears flowed down Sam's cheeks, he was touched about the vibrating and desperate voice of his brother.

Dean felt Sam relax and he noticed he was falling asleep. He kissed him on his forehead and fell asleep too.

Karen silently approached the bedroom, attracted by the sound of Dean's voice. She leaned against the wall and listened, her knees on her chest. She couldn't cry anymore. She looked at the door and then at her wrists: she could not end their pain and she could not end hers either. She hated her cowardice when the melody stopped. She stood up and glanced inside the room where Dean and Sam fell asleep in each other's arms.

"I'm sorry." She said without expecting an answer. She couldn't save them anyway.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean approached Edward's room and sighed deeply. He looked inside, the schedule showed he would not be here at that time but he checked as he was told. He had to follow the rules for once.

When he opened the door the smell made him nauseous.

"Son of a bitch!" he said half disgusted and amused.

He tried to bring some fresh air as he did with Phil, and then he noticed Edward made an effort: he only painted one of the bathroom's walls this time. It would take time to clean all of that anyway.

On his way to leave the room he fell right in front of Edward coming back from his visit with the doctor, Armand was with him.

Dean was surprised, not because of this encounter but because of the age of the patient. No details were written on the schedule or on the notepad so he thought Edward would be older, but he looked like he wasn't more than 25. He was even elegant in his nice pants and shirt, he was looking sophisticated and pretentious at the same time.

He smiled at Dean and pulled a hair lock away from his forehead which made him look a bit feminine. Dean stepped back, his piercing look made him uncomfortable, and considering Armand's face he figured he was right to be careful.

He understood why the East and West quarters were so different. He never felt he was with sick or crazy people when he worked on the West area.

He left the room but felt Edward's look on him all the way. Armand followed and closed the door. Dean's face was showing he was not in ease.

"Be careful with him" Armand said.

"Why is he here?"

"He's a perv. He was arrested for pedophilia and declared irresponsible. He doesn't see what's wrong in his actions as they say. Don't tell anyone but…" he approached and whispered "they say he will never leave this place."

"Shouldn't he stay in a restricted room?" Dean worried.

"There's no free room left, and he comes from a very rich family." He said sarcastically. "They're part of the generous donors who make St Gerry live."

Dean looked at the door "He never attacked anyone here?"

"Yes he did. He tried with a young patient but nothing went wrong fortunately. We came right on time and since that day we never leave him alone with other patients."

Dean frowned "damn money… even here." There was disappointment in his voice, and some anger too. He thought about Sam who didn't have the chance to have a rich family to protect him from his madness. His job at the factory wouldn't have opened any posh hospital's door to cure him.

"Mary had no choice you know… you can't be angry at her for that. She sacrificed her moral for the well-being of all the patients here."

"A rich child among poor people… this is the height of absurdity."

"I personally see this as a form of justice." Armand corrected. "Alright I have to go now, my Liliana is waiting for me."

"Room 8?"

"Yeah you've met her?"

"You could say that… she stayed on her chair talking to herself all the time I was here."

"She's an autistic girl."

"Which means…?"

"She can't communicate with the outside world, but she accepts physical contact and that's why she's in this part of the East quarter. She doesn't have any violent reaction which is pretty rare among autistic people. She just lives in her bubble"

He was about to leave "Oh and by the way she doesn't speak to herself, she just repeats the same 10 words again and again, they have sense only for her. Now I really have to go I'm late."

"Thank you Armand. Bye." Dean said pushing his supply cart to next room.

It was almost 1 pm when Dean arrived near room 14. He had 2 more rooms to clean after this one so he decided to take a pause.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He leaned on the Impala just to take the time to breathe and get some fresh air, a cup of coffee in his hands. He forced himself not to look up.

He looked down… what was happening to him? Why was he so confused about this patient? He just saw him a few minutes but when he met his eyes he felt he was falling in a black hole.

He was staring at the ground, playing with his shoes and he persuaded himself his past was just playing tricks as they had some common points, except he had people to help him and he had Sam.

He threw his coffee on the ground and came back inside.

Castiel never left his eyes from him, and for the very first time since he entered St Gerry Hall he dared doing something new: he lifted his hand and leaned it on the window.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean met Suzanne in the lobby.

"Hi Dean!" she said smiling.

"Hi Suzie."

Suzanne was good looking despite her strange fifties look, she probably was a little younger than Dean. She was in training in St Gerry for 4 years as she was continuing to study at the same time. It was obvious she had a thing for Dean since they first met in the refectory the day after he arrived. It was also obvious Dean liked her but he was keeping his distance anyway. He didn't want to give her hope because there was no hope with him, and it would never have any. He was here for a few days and he would leave in a few months.

He had to keep his distance to keep her from getting hurt and maybe to keep him from being hurt too. He would hurt her he knew that, he wasn't able to share anything but pain and violence. He was scared about the rage sleeping in him, ready to wake up at any time, in a bed or in a cage.

He looked at Suzanne and her black hair… she was almost looking like Louise Brook. He looked at her big brown eyes and hated himself because he felt attracted to her. She came closer.

"I have to go I still have work to do." And he left without a look.

"Hey thanks for the help!"

"You're welcome!" he said already in the elevator.

"… my pleasure Dean…" she finished in a sigh.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean took his supply cart back and looked at the planning. He would clean the last two rooms because they were with the occupational therapist. Actually he was just postponing what he was uncomfortable with.

At 2pm he went to the day room, there were 15 patients in it. He met Melvin the caretaker in charge.

"You should come back in 30 minutes, there will be 3 or 4 patients, it will be easier for you to clean and for me to watch. Is it ok?"

Dean nodded reluctantly… He had no other option, he had to go to room 14.

He stopped at the door and looked inside. He saw him standing at the window barefoot in his white pajamas… as usual.

"Ok let's go…" he said typing the code.

"Hi Cas!"

He froze when he saw him moving, just one step turning over. He acted like he ignored it but his whole body was tensed.

"Come on Dean control yourself… he's just another crazy man" he was repeating this line in his head, like a prayer.

He went to the bathroom and started to sing as he cleaned the mirror. It was another way, like the cage, to evacuate the tension. He was tempted to work as fast as he did the day before but he was paid to do the whole job so he had to control him.

He was singing a Jimmy Hendrix song as he was going back to the room

"Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand"…

Castiel was standing right here next to him, staring at him and Dean froze like time had stopped.

End of chapter VI


	7. Crossing looks

**I would like to thank you to read this fic or put her in your favorite…**

**Don't hesite to share this story not for me but for the victims, I wrote this fic for them**

**To show them there's always hope and light…**

**Don't ever forget that all this sufferings are a reality for some people…**

**CHAPTER 7: CROSSING LOOKS**

He fled… His too blue eyes, too deep, in which he thought he'd drown for a second, sinking in a never-ending hole.

Castiel was standing right in front of him tilting his head, attracted by his voice. He's never heard anyone singing, for him music was forbidden. The only pleasant sound he heard for all these years was the bird's singing.

Dean froze and stopped singing when he saw the depth of his look. It was like he could read his mind.

Then he stepped away, took his supply cart and fled, leaving a lost Castiel alone in the middle of his room.

Nothing… Invisible… even for this man he had observed since he arrived… This man he shared a look with. He held on this hope like he cared about his precious window but nothing… just emptiness one more time. She was right…

He stepped back to his window and he started to knock his forehead in rhythm against it. He had to do it to clear his mind and find the emptiness he liked to sink into so much.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean entered the day room, there were only 3 patients in it.

"Is everything ok man?" Melvin asked noticing the confused look on his face.

"Yes I'm fine."

He doubted it but didn't insist.

"You can start cleaning, I'll stay here." He added.

"Thank you, I won't be long."

"Take all the time you need, I'm here till 5 pm anyway."

Dean smiled without looking at him.

The whole time he spent in the day room, he spent it thinking about room 14 patient. He could feel his look on him. So he didn't notice the white hair man observing him since he arrived and he didn't see him coming closer smiling and extending his hand.

When he touched his shoulder Dean was caught by surprised and lifted his fist ready to punch. He stopped when he saw the man leaning on the wall screaming.

Melvin ran "What happened here?"

"Nothing… he took me by surprise and I had a sudden reaction."

Melvin stepped near the man "It's ok Charles, calm down, it's nothing."

"Bad! Bad! He wanted to hit me!" he said head between his hands.

The caretaker turned to Dean "Is that true?"

"I told you: I had a sudden reaction." He closed his eyes "I'm sorry it won't happen again."

Melvin looked at him furious "Yeah you better not do that again because next time I won't hesitate talking to the boss! You're in a hospital don't forget about it!"

He helped Charles calming down and talked to him to reassure him.

"Sorry man…" He said to Charles with a weak smile.

"Bad!"

Melvin put him on a chair a little further. Dean felt the look of the two other patients on him. There was a black man swaying on his feet and an older man who kept scratching his head looking at the ceiling.

"What the hell am I doing here?" Dean whispered.

He put his supplies on his cart and left the room without looking back.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He closed the door and leaned against the wall, just a few minutes to take the control of his emotions back, then he stood up… he had to get out of here. This is when he noticed a cleaning spray was missing on the supply cart.

"Shit!"

He looked inside the day room to see if it was here but he knew where he forgot it. He left so fast he didn't check his cart.

"What a douche am I!" he said slapping his forehead.

He turned around sighing. Room 14… he had to go back. He couldn't just let it there, it was too dangerous and he already screwed up enough for today. He left his cart and walked toward the room. When he arrived he looked at the small window and lost his confidence.

Castiel was sitting against the wall, in the corner near the window, staring at nothing.

Dean took a deep breath and typed the code. When he heard the door clicking, Castiel started to swing.

"Hi. Sorry but I forgot something in the bathroom. I have to take it back, it won't be long." He said without giving Castiel a single look. It wouldn't have changed anything after all he didn't react when he entered.

The cleaning spray was on the sink. He took it quickly and stepped back to the door ready to leave when he felt the need to turn to Castiel and asked:

"Are you ok?"

He stepped toward him and seeing his distress, he crouched down next to him.

"Hey dude…" he said with the softest voice he could let out.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"Hey Sam?"

He lifted his brother's chin: he had a swollen face, a split lip, and tears were falling down his cheeks.

Dean had to leave a few minutes to get some groceries. His mom discreetly gave him money before leaving for work so his father wouldn't notice and stole it to spend it in bars. She hadn't been to groceries in years.

Mr. Gardini was managing a little grocery store on the way to their school. When they were younger and when Karen was still coming with them, they often stopped by to buy what Karen always forgot: bread, milk and cereal. She finally stopped taking them to school because of her work schedule, so Mr. Gardini was seeing Dean, aged 8, holding his little brother by his hand to keep him walking.

Karen always forgot money or groceries because of alcohol. Sam was often hungry but never said anything, so Dean started to steal from the store, it was the only solution he found. He was stealing fruits from the front of the shop and when Gardini wasn't looking he was stealing cookies or bread. But the man wasn't blind… he noticed it but said nothing at first.

One morning he stepped away from the front window to make them think he was gone.

"Sam don't move I'll be right back"

Sam nodded, he would wait patiently for his brother.

"I want chocolate!"

"You'll have what I can get. Now be quiet and wait for me."

When he heard the front door closing behind him he panicked and tried to run in the shop.

"Dean! Come here buddy I won't hurt you." Gardini said with his strong Italian accent.

He was standing straight with a bag in his hands.

"Would you stop stealing from now?" he handed him the bag "This is for you and your brother."

Dean didn't dare stepping forward to take it. Gardini noticed his eyebrow that day… each day a new scar.

"You'll come here every morning before going to school."

Since that day and till he was 12, Dean went every morning in Mr. Gardini's store. He was the one and only person he could talk to. More than once the old man wanted to call the cops to tell them everything about their parents but Dean was always begging him not to because the social services would separate him from his brother. He wouldn't survive that.

Mr. Gardini always agreed not to call the police, and every night he would regret it because he knew in the morning he would see those two poor boys coming back holding hands and it would break his heart and remind him how such a coward he was.

Gardini was listening to them, he was believing them and he was comforting them.

The old man died in his sleep and with him, their only ray of sun and their only comfort died too. The store closed and Dean had to walk further to find another store to steal from, but the owner was not nice and his dog was way too big.

He was coming back from this store that day, running because he was scared his dad would come back first. He was scared he would find Sam first instead of him to take the beating.

When he came back home his father was sleeping in the armchair with a beer on the floor. Dean looked upstairs and knew.

"Hey Sam…"

He took care of him. It became a daily routine. Karen and John were drinking more and more, they lost control more and more. They were constantly fighting, insulting each other and living in a love/hate relationship. Two kids had no place between them.

The two brothers were living in the permanent fear to hear his steps in the stairs. He was slapping his wife but he was punching his sons. Dean and Sam were holding each other, listening to those footsteps in the hallway, praying with all their strength for it to not stop in front of their room's door.

Sometimes he liked to torture them: he was stopping in front of their room and was talking to them behind the door closed, hitting his fingers on the doorknob and then he would go away.

Dean always wondered if this kind of torture was not the worst. They were so terrorized they wouldn't sleep anymore so Dean pushed his chair to prop the door. It didn't last long because John found out and destroyed the door.

That day Sam curled under his bed but Dean was not so lucky. John let him half- conscious on the floor, Sam was looking at his empty eyes terrified.

John never fixed the door so it wouldn't close anymore. There was a small ray of light under it, letting the hallway's light filter in the room. The shadow of their father waiting behind that door was one more torture.

Mr. Gardini was just a temporary comfort and sometimes Dean wondered if he shouldn't have let him call the police or the social services. Being away from each other would maybe have been better that being broken. But Sam cleared that up:

"Don't leave me anymore… ever. Promise me Dean." He begged.

"I promise Sam… I will never leave you again."

He could never be able to keep that promise. Nobody could.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

"Hey Cas…" Dean repeated.

He stopped swinging and looked up. He was back and he was right in front of him. Dean smiled at him and he couldn't resist sinking his eyes into this man's look.

"You won't stay here sitting on the floor will you?"

Dean bent over to get him up but Castiel was terrorized when he saw him extending his hand so he curled up against the wall and looked up to the ceiling, searching for an invisible skylight.

Dean lost his smile when he saw the terror in his eyes. He knew that look too well.

"Hey…" He said softly "calm down I won't hurt you, I just want to help."

He tried to extend his hand again and Castiel's eyes were so full of fear he stepped back. He opened his mouth like he wanted to scream but no sound came out.

Dean stood up with his hands up to show he was giving up.

"It's ok I get it… I'm leaving. Relax."

Castiel started swinging again but this time he hold Dean's look.

"See you tomorrow?"

Castiel tilted his head.

"Bye Cas." He said with a weak smile.

He took his cleaning spray back and left. When he closed the door he looked back inside and their eyes met one last time.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

There was a message on his voicemail. He took a look: it was Gaby. He put his phone on his nightstand and laid down on his bed staring at the ceiling. The terrorized look in Castiel's face appeared in his mind. He put his forearm on his eyes and fell asleep.

He woke up because of a knock on his door.

"Dean are you in there? It's Melvin!"

He looked at the clock… 5.30 pm.

"Shit!" He let out and got up.

One more knock…

"I'm coming! 2 seconds!"

He unlocked and opened the door yawning.

"Oh sorry… I didn't think I would wake you up."

"Me neither." Dean said stepping aside to let him coming in. Melvin was a bit confused and didn't get what he meant.

"You know about earlier… you don't have to worry it won't happen again." Dean said opening his closet "you want some coffee?"

"Sure thanks." Melvin replied and sat down on the small kitchen's bar.

"Leyla heard Charles screaming…" he said in a sigh.

Dean was making coffee … "and?"

"She wanted to know what happened."

"What did you say to her?" Dean asked turning the coffee machine on.

"I told her you accidentally hit Charles with your supply cart."

"She believed you?" he asked getting two mugs.

"I guess she did."

Dean turned to him… "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but now I'll repeat what I said before: if you do that again I'll have to tell her the truth."

"Fair enough. But trust me it won't happen again."

"I hope so… I would hate to tell her something bad about you… you're a nice guy."

Dean smiled "I've been called a lot of names but nobody ever said I was nice".

He served coffee.

"Why are you really here Melvin?" He asked suddenly, his question putting Melvin in a very uncomfortable position… "Milk?"

"No thanks."

"So?" Dean insisted.

"It's about…" he looked at him and pointed at his black eye.

"So what?"

He bent on the table and whispered as if someone could listen "Is that true you're a fighter in the Cage?"

Dean leaned back crossing his arms "Where have you heard that?"

"Everything comes out here…" Melvin said taking a sip of his coffee.

"Why would you care anyway?"

"I'm in…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I want to be in!"

Dean couldn't help but laughed. Melvin was so skinny and so old!

"You have absolutely no chance."

"Who's talking about fighting? I want to attend a fight and bet!" he said with shinny eyes.

"Why?"

"I've seen some free fighting on TV, I bet online… I figured…"

"… Dean would make you a little favor after the one you've made for him today? Am I right?" Dean asked coldly.

"That's not what I meant." Melvin said putting his mug on the table.

"Get out of here." Dean answered.

Melvin looked down feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Fine… but think about it."

The caretaker left and Dean sighed. He looked at his phone and listened to Gaby's message: "Dean it's Gaby! What have you planned for next Saturday? Jet had to go to the hospital, it's not too bad but he's out for the next 3 fights. Call me. Bye."

He hung up, sighed deeply and dialed Gaby's number.

"Gaby? It's Dean. Is it still ok for next Saturday?" he asked taking his mug back "You know who will be my opponent?"

He took a sip and pouted "No, no… it's gonna be ok. What time?"

He was walking nervously in his room.

"I'll be here. Oh and uuuh… would you add a name on the guests' list for me?" He smiled "No it's a guy… Melvin."

He put his mug back on the table "Ok see you next Saturday... yeah you too Gaby."

He hung up and threw his phone in his bed.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Melvin was sitting on the front stairs smoking a cigarette, his eyes closed. He felt someone sitting next to him.

"I'll wait for you Saturday at 6 pm."

He opened his eyes and faced Dean.

"A fight?"

"Yes." Dean smiled.

"I've put you on the guests' list but there is one condition."

"Tell me."

"I need some information."

"Oh?" Melvin looked at him confused. "What kind of information?"

"I need to know more about one patient."

"Wow wow wow…" Melvin stood up "No question. You can forget about the Cage and don't worry I won't tell anyone about Charles. I really love my job here and I care about all the patients. You may don't care because you'll be gone in six months but I want to stay here till retirement. Don't count on me for that one."

"You're right, forget about it… it's not worth it anyway."

Melvin threw his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it.

"I'll still wait for you on Saturday, I owe you one and I will keep my word."

"You don't owe me anything."

"So take it as an invitation." He smiled.

"Thanks."

He climbed four steps. Dean stared at an invisible point in front of him, his elbows on his legs.

"You wanna know what about which patient?"

"Forget about it Melvin!"

"Just tell me who and I'll judge if I need to."

Dean looked up to the third floor.

"It's about room 14."

He heard Melvin stepping back.

"Castiel? The attic boy?"

Dean nodded.

"You don't need me to have information about him, just google it and you'll find what you want. But I'm warning you, the guy is a total mystery."

Dean turned to Melvin with a confused look.

"Even doctors and shrinks can't figure out anything about him, but they all agree on one thing…" he stepped forward looking at the third floor too "The guy lived in hell. I don't know him very much, he never left his room and it's Missouri and Garth who take care of him most of the time. Sometimes Armand too but it's rare. Not anybody can approach him like that."

He took a deep breath "I wonder if we'll manage to know more about him one of these days."

Melvin climbed the stairs "I have to go."

"Melvin!" Dean called.

"Yeah?"

"Is there a computer the staff can use here?"

"Nope. But if you want you can use my laptop."

"It would be nice. Thanks."

"I'll give it to you tonight. I have to go for dinner now."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Dean stood up, he was hungry. Missing lunch was definitely not a good idea. He looked up to the third floor one last time but couldn't see if he was there.

"I really need glasses." He said frowning.

Castiel didn't look away from him. Missouri was standing next to him with a big smile on her face.

"He will be back tomorrow don't worry… but for now you have to eat, come on it will be cold!" she sat "Castiel!"

He looked down and came to sit in front of her, without looking at her.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Melvin brought him his laptop as promised. He gave him the battery and the passwords and left.

"I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

"Keep it till Thursday, I won't need it."

"Ok thanks."

He waved at Dean and left.

Dean sat on his bed crossing his legs. He opened his beer and started to type.

"Ok… Google… attic boy… Castiel."

He smiled when he saw the first result: an angel picture.

"Angel of Thursday uh?"

He wasn't very good with computers. He knew the basics but never learnt further. Why would he anyway?

Then he saw newspapers' articles. He froze when he saw a picture that one of the nurses took when Castiel was transported in the hospital. She sold it for thousands of dollars to one of the local newspapers. This photo was in first page for days.

He barely recognized him as he was so sick and thin, almost scary with all his bones showing out and his pale skin. It reminded him of one of his history lessons when the teacher showed some pictures of Nazi camps prisoners… It shocked him at that time because he couldn't help finding some similarities with his life… his prison… his torture. The whole world's disregard about such a horrible crime… People never learn.

The picture he was looking at was disturbing him. If it wasn't for his blue eyes he would've sworn it was another man. He was sitting in a chair staring at the photographer with his lost look, wondering who the hell that woman was and why she was taking his picture without even trying to know who was the man sitting right in front of her.

Dean stared at it a long time sinking his eyes in that look full of misery, and he felt a ball in his throat. He closed the laptop quickly. He couldn't understand what was going on with him, he felt trapped and attracted to this man like a bug was attracted to light. He felt a link with the guy… like they had something in common.

He finished his beer and went to the bathroom. He took a shower hoping to take those pictures away from his mind but it didn't work… his look was too intense.

He took the laptop back and searched for an address… the attic… his hell.

He needed to understand why.

Castiel was on his bed, staring at the wall in front of him.

Her face… looking at him with an evil smile… and then his green eyes erasing hers and taking all the place.

That night he fell asleep and no nightmare came to disturb him.

End of chapter VII


	8. The book

**I would like to thank you to follow this story**

**I know that sometimes words and sufferings are hard to read in this fic, but all this abuses and pains are a reality**

**Never forget, that in the end of this darkness, light 'll be….**

**CHAPTER 8: THE BOOK**

He parked the Impala near a bookstore. He got out of it avoiding a laughing kid running on the walkway. Some man, his dad obviously, was following him.

"Be careful Brandon! You almost hit the man!" he said giving Dean an apologizing look.

Dean felt a bit sad about it. He pushed the bookstore's door and looked back, the man took the kid in his arms and kissed him.

He closed the door and it ringed. It was a nice place with the smell of books in the air. A man with his glasses around his neck approached.

"Hello Sir, may I help you?" he asked with a smile.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Misses Nora, with her forever ruffled hair and her glasses at the end of her nose, was St Vincent's librarian.

Dean was going in her books kingdom once a week with his class. He didn't like school that much, it was just a shelter for him and his brother. He was the quiet student trying to not bring intention on him or on Sam… or on their scars.

When his father was beating too hard he pretended to fall in the schoolyard. He wasn't looking for trouble because he was too scared the teacher would call his dad to get him at school… of course he would pay for that.

His teachers just thought he was a clumsy kid. Sam had less scars so he didn't bring attention at all. One of Dean's teachers was suspicious though… he always was asking questions about his life at home but Dean always refused to answer. The teacher knew something was wrong but as fate was always striking, he was transferred in another school the next year, ending all Dean's unconscious hopes to end this.

Misses Nora was every Thursday mornings' meeting for Dean, and every Friday mornings' meeting for Sam. It was always the same ritual: she was taking a book, leaning in her armchair, the kids were sitting in front of her on the floor, she was opening the book rearranging her glasses and was smiling seeing the first page.

It was very quiet when she started reading. She had such a captivating voice, they were all living adventures with pirates or ghosts as she was reading making faces and imitating them. It was full of suspense and laughter. She was trying to give each character a single personality. She loved reading books as much as her students loved listening to her.

Misses Nora was open-minded and curious and she liked getting other people curious too. Even if Dean didn't like school, he loved Thursdays. It was a tiny light into his darkness. He was always looking down shyly when she was putting some book in her bag and told him to be quiet about it.

When the house was getting some silent the evening, he was reading that same books to his brother, imitating Misses Nora's reading and bringing a smile on Sam's face for a few minutes.

He grew up and left junior high, so magic Thursdays left too. He tried something else then: music.

Sam was still in junior high so he was still attending her reading sessions, and as she knew he was Dean's brother, she kept giving books to him. Dean would still read stories to him and sometimes he was singing. He had a soft and low voice. Sam liked looking at his brother when he was singing, leaning against the bedroom's wall, his eyes closed, locked in this new freedom they shared.

The day Dean left High School, he stopped at Misses Nora's library. She was older and had grey hair but she hadn't changed that much. There were no reading sessions in St Vincent anymore, but kids always liked to come to her so she would talk to them about her stories while they were eating their cookies.

Dean stepped toward the counter and she smiled. He grew up but she recognized him. He gave her a smile, he was here to thank her for everything she's done, giving her a chocolate box. Of course he never mentioned he stole it. She was so happy about it she kissed him and his body tensed. She noticed it and stepped back putting her hand on his arm and giving him an intense look. Dean closed himself like an oyster.

He was not used to receive such marks of affection; except for Sam and his mom when he was very little. He never had a proper hug or a kiss like this one.

That's why he wasn't keeping any girlfriend too, he was unable to share tender gestures so they were bored most of the time and left. It was sexy at first, giving him the bad boy attitude girls liked so much, but after a while they would figure it was just his true nature and they would have nothing more than that.

He was 15 when he found a training job at the factory. He had to do it to bring a future to Sam who loved to study.

Dean was no longer afraid of his father, he was fighting back and Sam started to do the same. Soon there were only screams, verbal abuse, threats, and the gun locked in the parent's room closet.

Sam was finding peace in his studies and Dean in his music. One of his factory's coworker taught him how to play guitar. Just basics to know how to play a bit while he was singing. It wasn't rare during lunch that workers were here in the canteen just to listen to Dean singing and playing guitar. It was the only thing he would share with people from the outside.

He stopped singing for people when his brother went to the psychiatric hospital, but he was still singing for himself and for Sam. It was an unbreakable link between them.

The music and the Cage… two different universes but both something he needed to survive.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean looked up to the librarian.

"No thank you… I'm just watching."

"Alright Sir let me know if you need anything."

"Ok…Thank you."

He searched in the shelves, his hands in his pockets. Then he saw old books on a table and one of them made him curious. He took it and smiled while he was turning the pages.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He had eggs and coffee this morning. He was deeply thinking about his day and what would come this afternoon.

Garth came over smiling.

"Hey! So how was your first day?" he asked looking if he could sit down with him.

Dean nodded to confirm he could.

"Not so bad. Thanks again for the planning it was very helpful."

"You're welcome." He searched his pocket and handed him a folded piece of paper.

"Here you are. Planning of the day."

"Thanks." He said taking it and putting it on the table next to him. He was dying to open it and read it but wouldn't show Garth, even if his look betrayed him.

"He will stay in his room… he always do." Garth said taking a bite of his pancake.

Dean didn't react. How the hell did he know?

"So what do you think about the East quarter now?"

"I have to admit the patients are a little bit more…" he searched for the exact word avoiding the forbidden ones.

"Difficult?" Garth helped.

"Not really… I'd say off their rocker but I suppose it wouldn't be appropriate."

Garth laughed.

"I guess you're right after all."

Dean smiled without looking away from his plate. He knew what Garth wanted to talk about and he really wanted to avoid the subject.

"I talked to Melvin." Garth said.

"Oh. And?"

"You've met Charles?" He said smiling.

"It was an accident." He said on the defensive.

"You don't have to justify yourself." Garth replied still eating. "You did well for a first day."

"Really?"

"When Phil started working he made a riot in the day room after only an hour." He laughed remembering it and stopped when he saw Dean wasn't reacting.

"Don't forget it's Wednesday"

Dean frowned.

"Suzanne's not here you'll have to clean the West quarter too."

Dean froze.

"Dude are you ok?" Garth worried.

"I completely forgot." He said pushing his plate away.

"Have you planned something else?"

"Yeah… no…forget about it." He said and went quiet, lost in his heavy silence.

"I can help you when I'm done if you want. We can make it in an hour."

Dean looked up.

"I can't ask you this, Garth. You've done enough for me."

"It will be my pleasure. I haven't been there for a while. I'll take that opportunity to say hi to my favorites."

Dean knew Garth was lying, he's never been to the West quarter, but he didn't say anything. They were both keeping secrets.

"Let's meet at 1 pm in front of the East gate, ok?"

Dean looked at his watch… 7.45 am, and then he stood up.

"I owe you one Garth."

"You don't, I told you it's my pleasure."

"I doubt it." Dean smiled lifting his plate. "See ya! I gotta run or I won't be on time."

"Hey Dean?"

He turned back and saw Garth handing his planning paper.

"Oh shit I almost forgot. Thanks man."

He put it in his jeans' pocket. Garth looked at him leaving and took a deep breath. He felt her sitting next to him.

"Hi Missouri, you're early today."

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He started by the day room this time. Only the black man from yesterday was sitting here. He was staring at the table in front of him. Dean could see his feet moving under it. Obviously he couldn't help it.

Armand nodded to greet him when he entered and did the same when he left. The caretaker, without being someone unpleasant, seemed to care more about the patients and not so much about his colleagues. He was not talking so much and when he did, he was saying the minimum. Sometimes Dean wondered if he wasn't just mimicking the patients.

He looked at the planning and saw Edward would be away for an hour so he took this opportunity to go clean his room. He didn't want to meet him again, he felt too uncomfortable around him and he was a little creepy. He saw evil in his eyes, he almost recognized his father's cold brown eyes.

He made a masterpiece today… he "painted" the wall in front of his bed and the one in the bathroom. He figured Edward only found this way to let Dean know he wanted to be the smartest.

Dean sighed putting his gloves on. He started to sing and suddenly smiled… he knew he would listen to him, so he sang a little louder.

It was an Otis Redding song, "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay."

Castiel turned to the door. He tilted his head as he wanted to listen to this strange sound coming from the corridor. The screams were mixed in the melody but he was focusing only on his voice… Dean's voice.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He closed his car's door. He was standing in front of the house but he hesitated a long time.

Why?

As soon as he saw the address on his screen he knew he would come here. Something deep inside him was pushing him to do it, this look that was haunting him even in his sleep. His distress was calling him.

He finally figured there was no explanation to find, he was just following his instinct. He was connected to him whether he liked it or not, whether he chose it or not. Fate chose for him. The fastest he would understand what was wrong with Castiel, the fastest he would forget about it and go on with his life… at least what he called a life. He looked at his hands full of scars and wounds: he would feel alive next Saturday.

He looked up to see the dead house. From where he was standing he could already see the broken windows because nobody has lived in here since Elizabeth McLean, and because the house was visited a lot by young people trying to steal anything they could.

He crossed the empty street. Except for a small house nearby, the life in this street seemed to have run from this part of town. It was so quiet he would've thought he'd been in countryside. It was the perfect place to hide from the world…

When he arrived to the broken gate, he looked up to the roof pointing at the sky, and he felt sad. A whole life locked in here… he just couldn't imagine what it was like. It seemed impossible, even for someone like him who lived his own kind of hell. What monster could hide and abuse a human being till he was 30 without him to find the courage to flee? What kind of darkness does someone need to enslave someone like that for so long?

He needed to know.

The yellow police crossing line was hanging at the half open door. He pouted: it was such wreckage he wouldn't find anything to help him understand, but he pushed the door anyway and stepped in.

The smell… humidity mixed with pee. Cats must enjoy the place for sure. The first thing he saw was the stuffed dog near the stairs. There was a hat and a fake blue moustache on it. Dean smiled, thieves had some sense of humor.

He stepped in what he supposed was the living room, it was a real mess, and it was not only because of the housebreakers, he figured she was a real messy woman too. On the wall he could read "BITCH!" written with red painting spray.

After looking at the room he went to the kitchen. There were blood marks on the floor, probably that woman's blood. Dean surprised himself smiling at that… it was almost a satisfaction to see her blood right here. All the closets were open.

He swore when he almost fell on an empty can. There was absolutely no sign of life except the few Elizabeth left behind her… two pictures: a woman, kind of beautiful, a man with an empty look on her side, and a little smiling boy hanging at the arms of who probably was his son. It was a black and white picture but Dean figured the kid's eyes were blue, and his hair was almost blond so he thought it was not Castiel.

The second picture was a man in his forties with his mouth hanging and his eyes empty… he looked really dumb.

Dean scratched his jacket, he felt like the dirt was sticking to his clothes. The house was so old he figured she never cared about cleaning or keeping it fresh.

"Crazy house…" Dean whispered and sighed.

He looked to the hallway and was very surprised to see so many crosses in the house: One in the living room, one in the kitchen near the sink, another one in the first floor's wall.

He walked toward the stairs and started climbing the first step, and he stopped, he was feeling very nervous at that moment. He exhaled and closed his eyes, and finally he found the courage to climb all the stairs. There was a long hallway with four doors.

He walked through it and looked inside each room. There was one bathroom and three bedrooms. The first one was probably hers as there still was a night clothe on the bed. There was also Virgin Mary on her nightstand and Jesus-Christ on the wall above the bed.

In the second room the bed was in order. If there weren't drawers on the floor he would've think nobody have slept in this room for years.

In the third room there was just an empty bed and the curtains were closed. Dean entered when he saw a huge open case. He was curious… why was it still here after all the thieves' visits? It was like nobody wanted to touch it. It was actually full of pajamas and night clothes, all folded and in order but dirty and used. Dean extended his hand slowly and he took one of the clothes. It was a night shirt. As soon as he moved it, a terrible wave of urine smell almost made him puke.

"Holy shit!" He said full of emotion and surprise.

He put it back in the case and wiped his hand on his pants.

He walked out of the room feeling nauseous. He looked up and saw a trapdoor on the ceiling. He felt his courage leaving his body but after a few minutes of hesitation he walked toward it and saw the ladder built to climb up. He took it and placed it under the trapdoor. He climbed it and was suddenly near the hell's door, he wasn't so sure he still wanted to see it. He lost all his strength making his legs shake. He pushed some wire away with his hands and searched where it could come from. He wasn't long to find out and it was already a part of the answers he needed: the trapdoor was electrified, he couldn't get out. He tried to turn it on and off using the switch but there was no power in the house.

He pushed the trapdoor with his shoulder and it opened in a loud noise, he could hear the locks clicking when it fell on the attic's floor.

He looked up to the wood roof, climbed the last ladder's bar and froze when he was almost in the attic.

It was just a room with a very high ceiling, there was something looking like a fireplace in the center but he saw nothing to light a fire in it. It was a very big place, probably the whole surface of the house. The only opening was a big skylight but it was so dirty the sun was barely filtering inside. He saw a switch on a wall so he finally stepped inside the attic.

He took his head in his hands: 30 years in this place, how could he possibly be alive today?

He walked, the floor was crackling under his feet and he wondered if it would be strong enough to support his weight.

Behind the fireplace, against the wall, there was something he figured was a bed. The sheets were very dirty and very old, the pillow had no case and Dean was shocked when he saw leather bands on the four corners of the bed, probably used as ties.

His eyes fell on some dry flowers at the feet of the bed. He approached and saw a note on it saying "I'm sorry." It was probably one of the housebreakers who came here and knew the story of the house. There was nothing to steal or destroy in here though.

There was nothing except the bed, a table and a chair. Of course there was a cross hanging on the fireplace too. He also saw a shelf and few books on it, full of dirt and used because of humidity. He couldn't even read anything on it. Some pajamas were on it too, some very old underwear and a pair of old shoes.

Dean was submerged by emotion, he felt his throat tightening. Picturing Castiel between those walls, lost with nothing more than a skylight, he understood why he was always standing at his window in St Gerry… it was so clear now.

He walked a bit and saw something looking like a closet. Actually it was his bathroom, just a big bowl with a tap, only cold water of course, a colorless towel full of holes, a brick of black soap and chemical toilets.

Dean felt a tear on his cheek, he wiped it with his hand, he was full of rage at that moment. No pain, no sadness, just anger and rage. How a kid, a teenager and later an adult could've been hidden for so long without anyone to notice? How come nobody ever tried to understand? It should've been some signs! Nobody heard him cry? Or scream? Or move? How can you possible stay here quiet?

Then he remembered Sam and him… there had been signs but people were deaf and blind about them.

Submerged by rage, he punched the wall with all his strength which left a hole in it. It left a hole in his heart too. He could never forget what he saw today.

It took a few minutes for him to calm down. He turned around and saw drawings on the wall. He approached frowning, they were almost gone, but there were a lot. He looked and extended his hand to touch, it was almost graved in the wall and in the wood. He put his full hand on it and closed his eyes, then he stood up in a sigh and left without looking back in the attic.

He ran down the stairs, and in the alley until he reached his car. He sat in the Impala, turned the engine on and drove.

On his way back in St Gerry he tried to calm down and find his self-control back, but he was still submerged by rage and pain.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He decided room 14 would always been the last he would clean, and the one he would spend more time in too. He would spend less time with the other patients and felt a bit guilty about it but after all they were all in the day room when he was cleaning their rooms, and he was not a caretaker.

He looked inside through the small window and here he was again, standing in front of the window. He wondered what was happening in his head while he was watching outside. He typed the code and stepped in taking a deep breath.

"Hi Cas!"

He saw his shoulder shivering but he didn't turn around. Dean searched for his eyes in the window's reflection but Castiel wasn't looking. He felt a note of disappointment and pouted.

"What did you expect?" he thought walking to the bathroom.

When he started cleaning the bathroom and start singing, Castiel turned around, first looking at the floor and then his eyes moved to the bathroom's door. Dean was still singing the Otis Redding song.

He was cleaning the mirror when he felt observed. He half smiled, stopped singing and turned a bit. Castiel was here, leaning in the bathroom's door with his tilted head proving he was listening.

"You like it right?" Dean said stepping forward.

Castiel stepped back at the first move. Dean faked needing his rag on the supply cart and he showed it to Castiel to prove him he didn't want to harm, but Castiel stayed in the middle of the room refusing to come back.

Dean started to talk to him without even knowing why, he was just feeling free to do it.

"You seem to like music? I should think about bringing my MP3 player one of these days… ok it's terrible compared to vinyl's disk but at least you can use it everywhere. But really nothing will be better than old school disks."

He was still talking music and Castiel didn't understand a thing. MP3… speakers… disks… words without any meaning for him. What had a meaning though was the man talking to him, making him feel he was real and alive… he really had a life. He wasn't speaking to him like he was a mad person or as he couldn't understand, he was just talking to him like he was a normal human being. Not like Garth who was always talking about his own life and never cared about him. He felt Dean wanted to share something.

When he came back in the room, Dean saw Castiel didn't move from his spot but he had no fear, no pain and no confusion in his eyes… he looked curious.

"Well it seems music woke you up. That's good news I'll remember it."

He stepped forward and this time Castiel didn't move, but he still tensed a little and he put his right arm on his chest. Dean smiled a little at that move, it didn't mean anything to him. He was now right in front of Castiel.

"I will talk about it with Mary or Garth and see if I can bring some music in here because dude it's really boring! You must be damned bored here all day uh?"

He smiled and Castiel tilted his head. After a short moment of silence Dean hesitated but said:

"This afternoon I'm going for a little trip. I'm going… I'm going…" he really mumbled on that one "I'm going to see your previous house. I just wanted you to know, don't ask me why."

He laughed alone.

"It's crazy because you can't talk and you sure won't answer me anyway." He looked at him and his forever lost look.

"I wonder if you understand a word I'm saying." He sighed. "Anyway… I just wanted you to know about it. That's all."

Castiel didn't react.

"Ok move from here or I'll be late." He said looking at his watch. "Damn! 12:45!"

He caught his broom "Come on move!"

Castiel understood and obeyed, walking to the window. He took his position back and observed Dean cleaning in a rush.

"I'm sorry, we'll talk longer tomorrow… well I will talk longer tomorrow." He said smiling.

"I need to go to the West quarter now and I have to hurry if I want to go to…" he looked at Castiel "…well you know."

It brought a few minutes of silence.

"I have to go now. I would like to stay but… you know… see you tomorrow?"

Castiel turned to face the window but this time Dean caught his look in the reflection.

"Bye Cas!"

He closed the door looking back one last time and he walked to the exit with his cart, Garth was waiting for him there.

Missouri got out of Charles' room: she knew it. She had to talk to Mary.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean came back just in time from his strange visit, Mark was about to close the kitchen. He gave him the dinner he saved for him and as the refectory was empty Dean decided to take it and eat in his place.

He put his plate on his desk and took the book out of the little bag. He took a pen he wrote on the first page "property of Castiel."

Tomorrow was Thursday. In three days Phil would be back and his work at the East quarter would end. He couldn't help but felt bad about it. He would have to talk to Mary and be honest. If she refused to switch with Phil sometimes, he would ask if he could still visit him. She would ask a ton of questions but he was decided to answer and tell the truth, the only truth: "we shared hell." Even if Dean's hell wasn't the same: Castiel had no Sam, no Misses Nora, no Deveraux and no Gaby… it was just him and the devil woman.

The pain and the scars in their bodies and their souls are the same though. Dean wanted to be the helping hands which saved him.

He hoped he could wake something up in him with the book and the music.

"We're going to make it, you'll see."

He ate, took a shower and crashed on his bed.

End of chapter 8

**If you like this story, don't hesite to share it **

**Or, perhaps, just talk about all this (the abuses and pains), with your family or friends, maybe there are a Castiel or a Dean not so far…**

**Please listen, look at them…**

**Help them…**

**Thank you to have read this chapter, hope to see you in next one…**


	9. When destiny meets reason

**I would like to thank all of you to take time to read this fic**

**To put her in your favorite…**

**Thank you so much….**

**CHAPTER 9: WHEN DESTINY MEETS REASON**

Dean woke up early this Thursday morning. He took the book and slid it in his belt. He knew Mary would have breakfast at 6:30 am right before the morning visit of her patients.

Since he started working in the East quarter he's never met her again and he hadn't search for it.

When he entered the refectory, she was already here talking to a nurse. Dean saw that nurse before but never spoke to her so he didn't know her name. There were more than 20 staff members in St Gerry, Dean knew a few of them but he never tried to know more.

She saw him standing away from their table staring at them a little embarrassed, so after a few words the nurse stood up and left, offering her sit to Dean. He put his plate full of French toasts and eggs on the table.

"Good morning, Dean."

"Hi." He took the book and put it on the table.

She smiled looking at the book while Dean was making him comfortable.

"Garth told me you're doing a great job in the East quarter."

"Did he?" He replied looking at his plate.

"Yes." She leaned back in her sit holding her cup of coffee, trying to make her fingers warmer, she always had cold hands. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes… about the East quarter." He put his fork back on the table "I would like to continue working there."

Mary stared at her coffee "Why?"

"Just… you know… to change." He answered shrugging.

She put her mug back on the table.

"No, Dean. Next Monday Phil will be back and you'll go back to the West quarter, and in a few months Suzanne will be back from her training and she'll take her job back so you'll have to leave."

"So I'm here for six months and you'll throw me away like a piece of garbage?" he asked taking his fork back and playing with his eggs.

"I never said that, Dean. I'm just saying you won't be in charge of the East quarter."

"And of the West quarter either. There are not so many other options left as every other position is provided."

Mary seemed surprised.

"Are you saying you want to stay here?"

He stayed quiet, still playing in his plate.

"Is there something I should know about that you haven't told me?"

She took the book and Dean looked up. He extended his hands to take it back.

"Don't!" He said.

She moved her chair back so she was too far from him to catch it.

"Hey you can't do that!" he almost screamed.

She looked at him surprised by the tone of his voice. He felt the look of the other people here on him.

"It's mine…" He whispered.

She opened it and read without showing anything on her face.

"You wanted to give it to him?"

Dean pushed his plate away.

"I wanted to ask you first… I don't know anything about patients like him and I was afraid to make a mistake."

She gave the book back to him. He took it and put it back on the table. She took her cup of coffee back in her hands and there was a very heavy silence floating in the air.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why him? There are lots of patients here… why Castiel?"

He was lost in his thoughts, eating his eggs, and the expression on his face changed suddenly.

"I can't explain. It's like that, period."

"Missouri calls it destiny." She smiled.

"What do you call it?"

"I'm a psychiatrist, Dean… I don't believe in destiny."

He swallowed and talked in a casual tone:

"When my week there will be over I…" he paused.

"You what?"

"I'd like to keep visiting him." He said staring at his hands nervously.

"You know just… from time to time." He added trying to sound detached.

Mary leaned back in her chair and pushed a hair lock from her forehead. She saw really well what it cost Dean to ask such a favor from her, which just proved he was already very concerned about Castiel.

"You'll probably leave in six months, Dean… what will happen then?"

"I'll keep visiting him."

"Really? What if you find a job far from here or something happens to you?"

He felt her staring at him… She knew about the Cage.

"How will Castiel handle it? Have you thought about that?"

"I will never leave too far from here. I have a hate/love relationship with this town. Even when I had opportunities I never left, and God knows I wanted to."

She crossed her arms.

"What about that?" she pointed at his blue-green eyebrow.

"Don't ask me to stop."

"Even for him?"

"Because of him." Dean wasn't thinking about Castiel when he said that but about Sam and about all the anger his death was still provoking in him. The Cage was the only way to handle it and letting it out.

"There is someone behind this silence." He whispered.

She looked at him surprised to hear such words in Dean's mouth. He had empty eyes when he looked at Mary.

"I don't try to understand anymore, I just know something connected us. I tried to find a reason for all of this, thinking our broken past was the only reason we're so messed up, but I realized it's not only about that."

He looked at her deep in the eyes.

"I have very few good memories of my childhood, you know… except Sam, all my life was a mess and I'm still fighting this today, but I had the chance to meet great people along the way and they stopped me from falling deep in hell. You can judge my fights in the Cage, but without it I wouldn't be here talking to you today."

"I'm not judging anything, Dean."

"Oh right I almost forgot… you don't judge, you analyze, and I'm here talking about my problems like a douche."

"Dean…" she sighed in a soft voice.

"Alright forget about it… I don't know what happened to me, you're right: in six months I'll be gone and maybe it's better like that. I would hurt him anyway, I always do. I'm not here to make friends, I don't even know how to do that and he's probably feeling better in his fake heaven than in this terrible world bringing him only disappointment."

He stood up, took the book and put it back in his belt.

"You don't even believe a word about what you just said… you wouldn't have come here to talk to me if you did."

He took his plate.

"Leave me alone. Next Monday it will be all over, period."

He turned around and started to leave.

"You can give him the book, Dean."

He stopped a few seconds and started walking again.

"And for the rest…" she whispered to herself "I hate when destiny meets reason." She stood up sighing deeply.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

When Dean received his first pay check, he invited Sam in a restaurant that one of his coworkers talked to him about, one of those small intimate restaurants. It was the first time for Sam and Dean. They only went once in McDonald's for Sam's tenth birthday but never went back. Sam enjoyed it and kept the Happy Meal box and the toy that was inside: a tiny Darth Vader.

Dean found the toy after Sam was interned, but he had no strength to throw it so he put it in the Impala's trunk. There was a small iron case in his trunk full of souvenirs from his brother.

It was a Mexican restaurant. Dean ordered a lot of different food and they both ate too much. Sam was almost 13 and Dean saw better days to come. He was working and earning his own money, he didn't need his mother or his father anymore, he was the one in charge in the family. Karen and John could buy all the drinks they wanted, Dean didn't care anymore because he knew Sam would have anything he wanted thanks to his job.

Sure it was still hell in the house, but Dean and his brother had found their personal heaven.

It became a ritual: they spent each pay check day in a restaurant. To thank his brother, Sam was working hard in college and he was very successful.

Dean never saw the distress hidden in his brother's eyes. They could feel each other's pain but Dean always thought he was doing enough efforts to save Sam from his demons, but Sam was feeling very guilty to see his brother working so hard to pay his college studies. Dean always said he was happy about it, because Sam's happiness was bringing him happiness too. Sam understood, but he couldn't handle the weight of madness anymore.

That day, the day before the ritual pay check restaurant, Sam came back from college and John was waiting for him in the kitchen, almost sober.

"We need to talk, son."

Sam went to the fridge and swore when he saw there was no soda left, only beers.

"You hear me?"

"I'm not deaf." He answered coldly. He was in a very bad mood because he screwed an important exam that morning and he didn't know how to say to his brother he would probably repeat a year in college if he wasn't making efforts. He actually didn't know how to say to Dean he just didn't want to, he was too tired and couldn't find the strength to do it.

"I need you to talk to your brother."

"Why?"

"Your mother is very sick."

"And?"

"Sam… it's your mother I'm talking about!" John said, shocked.

"My what? Since when?" Sam laughed.

"Doctors say it's a tumor."

Sam took a glass of water. He was feeling bad and guilty but she didn't deserve his pity.

"I don't have enough money to pay her medical assistance." John explained.

"What about the insurance?"

John looked down and Sam stared at him.

"The insurance!" he insisted.

"We have no insurance anymore."

"What? Since when?"

"It doesn't matter when."

"Yeah you both drank the matter out of it, right. Drink it till you die then!" Sam said angrily.

He was about to leave the room when his dad caught him by his sleeve.

"You have to talk to Dean, he will listen to you!"

"Go to hell. I won't talk to Dean, you hear me? Go back to your beer."

Sam brutally pushed him away and left. He wanted to catch his bag but his dad came behind him and pushed him against the wall.

"You little dick! You don't wanna help your mother? Fine… Justice will make you do it then. You still live under our roof, we give you a place to live and we feed you!"

Sam gave him an evil laugh.

"Excuse me? Dean pays half of the rent for the house because you and mom can't deal with a single dollar! He's the one filling the fridge without you caring to fill it… you're way too busy trying to fill your mad-alcoholic stomach!"

Sam received a slap right in the face. Karen just slapped him. He was so shocked he held his cheek in silence.

"I forbid you to talk to your father like that!"

"My father? That piece of garbage who made hell out of our life? And you were the guardian of it by the way! I have only one father, and it's DEAN!" He yelled.

"That little shit? He's just good enough to put new tires on cars!"

"Don't talk about him like that!"

"I talk like I want! He's my son!"

"He's not your son… you're no father and you've never been! You're a monster full of alcohol!"

"A monster who will stay your father whether you like it or not! You don't run from what you are! If I am a monster… a monster you both will be." John gave him an evil look and walked toward the living room.

"If Dean doesn't want to pay for his mother… I'll call a lawyer. We'll see who will have the last word… as long as you'll live in my house you will bow and do what I want!"

Sam heard him opening the closet under the television and he recognized the specific noise of glass.

Karen put her hands in her hair… it was dirty. John and her forgot the way to the bathroom a long time ago. She walked to the kitchen and missed Sam's look turning into darkness and emptiness. It was a fight among others… his failure… his fear to disappoint Dean… years of abuse… Dean always fighting for him… Dean living only for his brother and forgetting to live for himself too because he was thinking he wasn't worth it…

It was too much… he needed to do something for his brother now. He would free him.

When Dean came back home, Sam felt him more than he saw him. An angry scream and footsteps on the floor… time was frozen and then he felt him on his side.

Sam wanted to tell him it was all over, that he was free and could live his own life now, but when he looked in his eyes, right before falling forever, he understood he made a terrible mistake. He just killed his brother because his own life was connected to his brother's. How could he possibly tell him he wasn't as strong as he was? How to say he was too tired? How can you admit to someone you love that you want to die to stop the pain eating your soul?

He turned into emptiness thinking about what he's written on the wall with the blood of his father: "Promise me you will live for me." Dean would know what it meant.

One night, when their father was screaming his rage and hitting them with a wood stick, they promised to each other if one of them died, the other would live to break the curse of their family and give a meaning to their life. They were so young when they promised each other… maybe it would've been stupid a few months later, but a promise is a promise. They would never break one, it was a strength they shared, a connection, a truth… their trust.

That cursed day, Dean whispered in his brother's ear that he would never promise such a thing anymore. He should've followed him the day Sam closed his eyes forever, but since that day he was only surviving.

And then St Gerry Hall happened… and destiny hit him.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He casually pushed his cart… talking to Mary disturbed him. She was right though: in six months what would happen? Dean could never know what tomorrow would bring.

There will be a time when he won't be able to fight in the Cage anymore, because of his physical condition or because Gaby wouldn't let him do it anymore, he knew that. In this weird environment made of violence, blood and money, there were rules to follow anyway and one of it was "If a coach gives up on you, no one will give you another chance."

Castiel deserved more than a lost soul without any future and without any hope. He lived his own hell and he couldn't survive living another one.

It was almost 1 pm when he stopped in front of room 14. He glanced through the small window and saw he was here, of course. He typed the code and stepped in the room.

He didn't say hi, he wanted to avoid any contact. He went in the bathroom without a word or a look. Castiel was waiting for the sound of his voice but he didn't sing. He waited for him to come near him but he wasn't even looking at him.

Why?... What did he do wrong again?... Why was he angry at him?

Dean was cleaning the toilet when he heard a thud in rhythm. He stopped what he was doing and stood up.

"Cas?"

He walked toward the room and froze at the bathroom's door: Castiel was knocking his head on the window.

Dean stepped toward him as relaxed as he could even if deep down he just wanted to run and take him away from the window.

"Hey, Cas…"

He stepped forward and ended up standing right next to him.

"Cas it's me… Dean."

The thud stopped but Castiel kept his forehead on the window and turned his face a little to his left. Dean put his forehead on the window too and turned his face to his right to meet his gaze, and then he smiled.

"You brat… you know what you're doing right now? It's called blackmail."

Castiel tilted his head still stuck on the window. Dean stared at him drinking his distress, then he stepped back and sat on the bed.

"In two days I won't be able to come anymore, Cas…" he said in a husky voice. "… Phil will take his position back and I'll take mine in the West quarter."

He looked down to avoid his look.

"I didn't think it would be so hard you know… we don't even know each other and then… you and your fucking eyes talking to me!" he tried to sound like he was joking but his voice was sad.

"Mary doesn't want me to come back here. After all she may be right… in six months my job will end and I'll have to leave so it's better if we keep some distance."

He laughed alone.

"If anyone could hear me right now!" He looked up still laughing and fell on Castiel's gaze. He saw only misery. Castiel understood everything.

"Don't look at me like that… you're making it even more painful." He stood up from the bed.

"I shouldn't have asked to work here. Now I'm being punished for my curiosity or my pride I don't even know what it was in the first place." He admitted and his smile froze.

He took his broom and started to clean the room. Right now he just wanted to cry... yes, right, him… Rage… crying when he hasn't cried since Sam's death.

He was feeling his look calling him, asking him to turn around, but he didn't, and then he heard him walking closer to him.

"Cas no…" he whispered.

He stepped away and put his broom back in the cart. He took the short-handled brush and crouched down to clean the imaginary dust on the floor.

Castiel stepped forward and crouched down a few steps from him. He was still too scared to come closer than that, but for Dean, it was like Castiel was grabbing him. He looked at him from the corner of his eye and noticed he was looking at his toes, his hands crossed on his knees, in a very bad balance. He looked like a submissive animal.

Feeling very uncomfortable, Dean stood up quickly throwing the brush in the garbage on his cart. He glanced at him between the broom and the duster.

"I have something for you… a gift. I wanted to give it to you next Saturday but…"

He took the book.

"I figured we could talk about it tomorrow and the day after, right?"

Castiel didn't move.

"I'll leave it on the table ok?"

He pushed his cart and placed it near the door.

"I hope you'll like it. I thought about you when I saw it in the library."

He hoped Castiel would look at him but he was still crouched looking at his toes.

"Alright… bye Cas." He said opening the door.

"See ya tomorrow." And he left the room.

He pulled his hands in his hair and pressed them on his head: he had to control himself and hold the tears threatening to fall down.

He took a deep breath, looked at the small window on the door, and he left without a look from Castiel.

Mary was right: if a few minutes for a few days provoked such reactions in him and in Castiel already, they were going straight to the wall. All their emotions were passing through their looks and their behaviors. Silence was not a problem for them and it scared Dean. This deep connection between him and Castiel was scary too, it was so different from the one he had with Sam and yet it was so identical at the same time… he needed to know, he needed answers.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He knocked and entered the office without waiting for an answer. Mary looked up.

"You're a doctor so… help me. Tell me why I can't get this guy out of my head, why is it eating me from the inside, and what the hell is wrong with me?"

She stared at him a long time detecting his distress and his pain.

"Sit down, Dean."

"No!" he said suddenly "I don't want to sit down, I want answers!"

"And you think I have answers to all the questions?"

"Isn't it your job?" he almost screamed in despair.

"Is it becoming attached to someone that scares you so much? Or is it the way it happened?"

He fell on the armchair.

"Both I think… since…" he looked down "since Sam's death…" He sighed "I didn't want to feel that way anymore but here…"

"Feel what way, Dean?"

He bent and put his head on his hands.

"All of this can't lead to something good. How two broken human beings like us could possibly win this? I don't know anything about psychiatry and I'm not talented when it comes to those things."

"Those things?"

"Yeah… social skills you know… human being." He sighed.

"What do you think about yourself, Dean?"

"What I… " He sighed deeply again very surprised by her question "I always screw everything when it comes to relationships and it's not today it will change. I have no friends and I never had because I don't know how friendship works, I have no girlfriend because I am totally unable to give them what they want you know… tenderness and everything… I can't… it was only for Sam."

"What about Castiel?"

He leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.

"When I see how it ended with Sam…"

"Are you afraid to lose him too?" Mary asked surprised by her own question.

Dean laughed ironically.

"This is ridiculous, I don't even know him. I never heard about him before starting to work here. The Attic Boy… I didn't even really hear about it and frankly if I had I probably wouldn't have cared. I have my hell too. But then all of this happened and he screwed up with my miserable life, just with a look."

"Did he screw up with your life? Didn't he give it a new meaning?"

Dean tilted his head.

"Since your brother's death you try to find a meaning to your life because whether you want to admit it or not, you want to live your life, you fought to keep it."

"If I'm alive today it's only because I promised him."

"Dean…" Mary sighed "Don't use your brother as an excuse to survive, because you don't even believe it anymore. Does it hurt so much to want to live even if it's without him?"

Dean stood up angrily.

"When he died I died with him!"

"No… when he died you felt free and this is what's killing you, Dean." She corrected.

"You don't know me and you don't know anything about my life… you think reading a file about me written buy a fucking bureaucrat makes you an expert?"

He stepped forward furious.

"Since Sam's death I pray every morning to not wake up the next day, I am NOTHING without Sam, can't you understand that? Nothing… he was my only reason to live and I lost it. I should've followed him."

"If he let you the opportunity to do it, you wouldn't have follow, Dean… The rage eating you is not about yourself, it's about him because he gave up and he left you alone… he died and he wasn't as strong as you were. He broke the connection you thought was unbreakable and you're mad at him for that."

"SHUT UP!" Dean yelled taking his head in his hands. "How dare you?" He asked in a broken voice.

Mary stood up and walked toward him.

"In that Cage, you're facing your rage but you don't want to admit the reality. He wasn't as strong as you are… I've read his file too."

He turned around, his green eyes full of anger.

"Who told you to read his file?" he thundered.

"Dean you're in a hospital… I have to know who I deal with when I give a job to someone. It's not about you or Sam here, it's about my patients."

Dean closed his eyes and tried to contain his anger eating him from the inside. Mary noticed it and she stepped back as she wanted to sit back behind her desk.

"You can't blame yourself for the choice your brother made. He would've been dead earlier if you weren't here. You have to admit you can't save everyone because some people don't want to be saved."

"Out of the mouth of a psychiatrist it's almost funny." He said sarcastically.

"Yes, I'm a psychiatrist, Dean… not a magician. I know I can't cure everyone in this place, but if I can at least ease their pain it will be a victory for me. The few patients who make it and go out of here to start a new life are my reward. The others are my own failures and it makes me doubt each time I realize I failed, but I keep fighting to avoid it the most I can. I am fighting for them."

Dean calmed down, the storm was finally over.

"You really think we have a chance with Cas?" he whispered shyly.

"I think you are his chance."

He frowned and walked to the door. He stopped when he opened it, his hand on the doorknob.

"Don't talk to me about my brother the way you did today or you won't see me anymore. I'm not one of your patients, doctor. And forget about Cas. I will end this next Saturday."

He closed the door on a very disappointed Mary.

End of chapter IX


	10. Free

**First of all, I would like to thank you, Book Genius, your review touched me a lot.**

**It's a reward for an author to read this kind of words….So thank you**

**Thank you to all of you to take of little bit of your time to read this fic, never forget that behind the words, there is a reality….**

**Happy New year…**

**CHAPTER 10: FREE**

He pulled his car to the side of the road and stayed here sitting for a few minutes, just watching the horizon. Mary's words were resonating endlessly in his head. The weight he's always felt on his shoulder was started to go away.

"Sam…"

He put his forehead on his hands still hung to the wheel and cried. He cried as he never did before, or at least not since St James Hospital called him to tell him his brother ended his own life. His throat was cut and bleeding deeply, he cut his veins with one precise move. His blood was mixed with water as the nurse found him sitting in the shower. No one would know where he found that piece of glass but who cares? It was too late anyway.

Dean took his car and he drove very fast to go to his brother. He wasn't even watching the road he was just driving with his instinct, like it wouldn't matter if he had an accident and died. Retrospectively he would've wished a truck hit his car, so he would lose the control of it and die… be free… and be with him again.

He parked the car and for a long time he hesitated in front of the gate. The guard walked toward him as he recognized him. Seeing Dean's pale face and his lost look, he knew. It was almost midnight, only death could make someone come so late in St James.

The guard smiled when he opened the gate, with this sorry look on his face which made Dean wanting to punch him. He was feeling angry more than sad. He was persuaded this hospital was a place to die for his brother, he was certain he would have been cured if he could've been transferred in another place, because it was Sam… it was his brother… Because he couldn't have leave him alone just like that without an explanation, without giving him the reason of all this madness… because he couldn't have chosen death instead of him.

Doctor Verlinghen approached with a casual face.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Where is he?" he replied quickly.

"We brought him to the morgue after I pronounced time of death. We're waiting for the coroner."

Dean tensed: death… morgue… coroner… it should've been just a nightmare.

"I want to see him."

"Mr. Winchester… you should wait after the coroner…"

"NOW!" he interrupted.

"Alright… but I must warn you…"

Dean lifted his hand to show him he wanted him to stop talking.

"Please."

"As you wish…"

During all the way to the morgue Dean remembered his two visits a week, the empty look on Sam's face, knocked out because of medication and madness.

At first he came every day but Sam wasn't making any progress and seeing him like that was making him crazy too, and he had to stay strong for both of them. He couldn't do it with a sick face on him. He had to work too so he came less, and frankly if it was only to see a Ghost Sam it wasn't worth it.

It became another ritual, twice a week, but did Sam and his empty look his scary smile notice he was here? Did he listen to his voice? Doctors said yes but Dean always doubted.

But he had to be here in this body right? After all it was Sam who tried to hang himself twice, Sam who tried to stab himself once… Sam who wanted to die. Not this quiet and lifeless human being sitting in front of him every Mondays and Thursdays.

Dean was mad at him for not trying to fight harder and to let go. He hated himself for wishing it would end. Why couldn't he just be here and be a brother like he always was?

They stopped in front of the morgue's door. Dr Verlinghen searched for the right key because at this time nobody was here to open. They entered, he turned on the light and Dean saw him… his long body on that morbid table, with his feet showing beyond the white sheet. Dean rubbed his face and stayed away.

"I'll leave you two alone. I'll be in the hallway if you need me."

Dean didn't answer. He walked toward the table while Dr Verlinghen went out.

He needed to look under the sheet… he had to be sure. He knew already because when he touched his fingers showing from under it, it was cold. He held his fingers in his hand and he remembered when they were coming back from school, hand in hand. He remembered holding them when they were facing their father's anger too.

He lifted his dead hand and his forearm showed. He took it in his hands too… he was so cold!

Then he finally pulled the sheet down, revealing his face... his long brown hair, his large forehead, his eyes closed, his white lips… just him. Dean pulled his head back and looked at the ceiling. Sam… his Sam! He started to cry without looking at him, and after a few seconds his eyes fell on his face again… he looked so peaceful. He pulled a hair lock away from his forehead and caressed his cold cheek… death.

"Son of a bitch…" he whispered between his sobs.

"You son of a bitch, you did it… you let go… you left me. What am I going to do without you? Why Sammy? Why didn't you just say something to me? Why did you leave without me?"

He tried to make him sit down and he succeeded painfully, then he held him in his arms swaying. The nurses had put bandages around his neck to hide the wound, like a scar on the end he chose and hoped for so long.

There are people who have the strength to survive.

There are people who have the strength to die.

Sam knew the day he lifted his hand to hit his girlfriend… he felt the rage inside him and he knew he would become just like his father, he knew he wouldn't have Dean's strength to fight it. Of course he didn't tell him and he hid the reason why he broke up with Jessica. Luckily for him Dean didn't want to know, he just wanted his brother to be happy, he was literally living for him. Sam wanted to tell him about the monster rising inside him but he knew he wouldn't understand.

How can you live pain and abuse and do it yourself right after?

This was why Sam was drowning, this is what caused his perdition.

He really wanted to tell Dean, but he knew he wouldn't even want to hear it, he wouldn't admit his little brother could be the same as the monster who destroyed their lives. So he found a new strength: the strength to stop it before it's too late, to free his brother and himself at the same time.

When his decision was made once for all he found peace, and when life left his body, something inside him felt like Dean would find the courage to go on and someone to help him. He was not dying for nothing, he was dying for them.

Dean left the morgue with a very pale face and red puffy eyes.

Three days later he put the funeral urn in the cemetery and never came back.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean got out of his car and went to the open the trunk. He took a deep breath and took the little iron case in it. He put it on the hood and turned the key to open it… the key to his past… their past.

There was a picture, one of the only pictures of him and Sam together, a school portrait. Sam was about 7 and Dean was 9… his look was already empty.

He searched in all the stuffs, stuffs which probably would have no importance for anyone but were like gold to him… there was the little Darth Vader and some marbles Mr. Gardini gave them, a dollar coin, a used play cards game, his degree, and a book.

Mrs. Nora let him choose one in the library and he took "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde without an hesitation. Dean read this kid story to Sam though it was sad.

He closed the case, it was all he had left from his brother. This and a picture of him when he was 16 that he stuck in the back of the view mirror inside his car. Sam was smiling in the picture and when he thought about it, he had to admit he haven't seen him smile that much. He was smiling less and less as he grew up. Actually Dean was growing up pushing his father's influence away, but Sam grew up being more and more the prisoner of it. Did he hate himself so much to let the monster win?

He knew that if Sam hadn't fall earlier it was only for him, but after he lost his courage and his strength he just couldn't do it anymore, so he let himself fall in the darkness of his soul and let Dean's hand go away with a smile… he was free now.

St Gerry Hall happened and the brick wall Dean built inside his head finally started to fall bit by bit, just because of one broken man. Dean felt a bit better and he realized maybe it wasn't his fault, Sam made his choice a long time ago. The only guilty persons were and would forever be their parents.

Maybe the people keeping their eyes shut around their distress were a bit guilty too… Their eyes were full of pity for them but they never moved to help them when they knew.

Sam probably felt like they all gave up on them and he had only Dean's hand to hold on to.

When he drove back to St Gerry it was night.

When he closed the door of his room behind him that night, he felt his heart empty and his soul heavy. He wanted nothing, he had no strength and no tears left. This epiphany drained him and at that moment he felt really lonely. He couldn't even hold on to his brother's memory anymore.

Mary was right: he was loving life but he just felt there was no reciprocity.

He took a very long shower and tried to wipe out the image of Sam with his throat cut under the water. He managed to do it and replaced it by Sam sitting next to him on his bed and listening to him singing or telling stories. The image of burnt innocence… and broken destinies.

When he got out of the shower he stayed a moment in front of the mirror completely naked. He wiped the steam and looked… placing his fingers on his scars. The one on his collar bone graved in his flesh was here because his father pushed him against the glass closet. He was holding him by the collar of his shirt and when he wanted to bring him back to him, a piece of glass cut his collar bone leaving a deep and long scar.

The scar under his belly button appeared when the wood stick broke on him and one of the parts got stuck in his stomach.

Each scar reminded him of this past he couldn't forget, he didn't want to forget either, it was a part of his life, a part of himself, of who he was today and who he would be in the future. They were him, Dean.

He turned around, still in front of the mirror, and saw the scars left by the belt of his dad on his back.

Then he turned, put his hands on the mirror and looked at himself in the eyes. Suddenly the green of his eyes melted with the blue of Castiel's ones and he knew behind this look he was screaming for help. Behind this look he was saying everything he could.

Dean slid against the bathroom's door and fell asleep just like that.

He jumped when he heard a voice calling him.

"Dean? Are you here? It's Melvin!" he called and knocked on the door.

He probably wanted his computer back.

CHAPTER 10: FREE

He pulled his car to the side of the road and stayed here sitting for a few minutes, just watching the horizon. Mary's words were resonating endlessly in his head. The weight he's always felt on his shoulder was started to go away.

"Sam…"

He put his forehead on his hands still hung to the wheel and cried. He cried as he never did before, or at least not since St James Hospital called him to tell him his brother ended his own life. His throat was cut and bleeding deeply, he cut his veins with one precise move. His blood was mixed with water as the nurse found him sitting in the shower. No one would know where he found that piece of glass but who cares? It was too late anyway.

Dean took his car and he drove very fast to go to his brother. He wasn't even watching the road he was just driving with his instinct, like it wouldn't matter if he had an accident and died. Retrospectively he would've wished a truck hit his car, so he would lose the control of it and die… be free… and be with him again.

He parked the car and for a long time he hesitated in front of the gate. The guard walked toward him as he recognized him. Seeing Dean's pale face and his lost look, he knew. It was almost midnight, only death could make someone come so late in St James.

The guard smiled when he opened the gate, with this sorry look on his face which made Dean wanting to punch him. He was feeling angry more than sad. He was persuaded this hospital was a place to die for his brother, he was certain he would have been cured if he could've been transferred in another place, because it was Sam… it was his brother… Because he couldn't have leave him alone just like that without an explanation, without giving him the reason of all this madness… because he couldn't have chosen death instead of him.

Doctor Verlinghen approached with a casual face.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Where is he?" he replied quickly.

"We brought him to the morgue after I pronounced time of death. We're waiting for the coroner."

Dean tensed: death… morgue… coroner… it should've been just a nightmare.

"I want to see him."

"Mr. Winchester… you should wait after the coroner…"

"NOW!" he interrupted.

"Alright… but I must warn you…"

Dean lifted his hand to show him he wanted him to stop talking.

"Please."

"As you wish…"

During all the way to the morgue Dean remembered his two visits a week, the empty look on Sam's face, knocked out because of medication and madness.

At first he came every day but Sam wasn't making any progress and seeing him like that was making him crazy too, and he had to stay strong for both of them. He couldn't do it with a sick face on him. He had to work too so he came less, and frankly if it was only to see a Ghost Sam it wasn't worth it.

It became another ritual, twice a week, but did Sam and his empty look his scary smile notice he was here? Did he listen to his voice? Doctors said yes but Dean always doubted.

But he had to be here in this body right? After all it was Sam who tried to hang himself twice, Sam who tried to stab himself once… Sam who wanted to die. Not this quiet and lifeless human being sitting in front of him every Mondays and Thursdays.

Dean was mad at him for not trying to fight harder and to let go. He hated himself for wishing it would end. Why couldn't he just be here and be a brother like he always was?

They stopped in front of the morgue's door. Dr Verlinghen searched for the right key because at this time nobody was here to open. They entered, he turned on the light and Dean saw him… his long body on that morbid table, with his feet showing beyond the white sheet. Dean rubbed his face and stayed away.

"I'll leave you two alone. I'll be in the hallway if you need me."

Dean didn't answer. He walked toward the table while Dr Verlinghen went out.

He needed to look under the sheet… he had to be sure. He knew already because when he touched his fingers showing from under it, it was cold. He held his fingers in his hand and he remembered when they were coming back from school, hand in hand. He remembered holding them when they were facing their father's anger too.

He lifted his dead hand and his forearm showed. He took it in his hands too… he was so cold!

Then he finally pulled the sheet down, revealing his face... his long brown hair, his large forehead, his eyes closed, his white lips… just him. Dean pulled his head back and looked at the ceiling. Sam… his Sam! He started to cry without looking at him, and after a few seconds his eyes fell on his face again… he looked so peaceful. He pulled a hair lock away from his forehead and caressed his cold cheek… death.

"Son of a bitch…" he whispered between his sobs.

"You son of a bitch, you did it… you let go… you left me. What am I going to do without you? Why Sammy? Why didn't you just say something to me? Why did you leave without me?"

He tried to make him sit down and he succeeded painfully, then he held him in his arms swaying. The nurses had put bandages around his neck to hide the wound, like a scar on the end he chose and hoped for so long.

There are people who have the strength to survive.

There are people who have the strength to die.

Sam knew the day he lifted his hand to hit his girlfriend… he felt the rage inside him and he knew he would become just like his father, he knew he wouldn't have Dean's strength to fight it. Of course he didn't tell him and he hid the reason why he broke up with Jessica. Luckily for him Dean didn't want to know, he just wanted his brother to be happy, he was literally living for him. Sam wanted to tell him about the monster rising inside him but he knew he wouldn't understand.

How can you live pain and abuse and do it yourself right after?

This was why Sam was drowning, this is what caused his perdition.

He really wanted to tell Dean, but he knew he wouldn't even want to hear it, he wouldn't admit his little brother could be the same as the monster who destroyed their lives. So he found a new strength: the strength to stop it before it's too late, to free his brother and himself at the same time.

When his decision was made once for all he found peace, and when life left his body, something inside him felt like Dean would find the courage to go on and someone to help him. He was not dying for nothing, he was dying for them.

Dean left the morgue with a very pale face and red puffy eyes.

Three days later he put the funeral urn in the cemetery and never came back.

Dean got out of his car and went to the open the trunk. He took a deep breath and took the little iron case in it. He put it on the hood and turned the key to open it… the key to his past… their past.

There was a picture, one of the only pictures of him and Sam together, a school portrait. Sam was about 7 and Dean was 9… his look was already empty.

He searched in all the stuffs, stuffs which probably would have no importance for anyone but were like gold to him… there was the little Darth Vader and some marbles Mr. Gardini gave them, a dollar coin, a used play cards game, his degree, and a book. Mrs. Nora let him choose one in the library and he took "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde without an hesitation. Dean read this kid story to Sam though it was sad.

He closed the case, it was all he had left from his brother. This and a picture of him when he was 16 that he stuck in the back of the view mirror inside his car. Sam was smiling in the picture and when he thought about it, he had to admit he haven't seen him smile that much. He was smiling less and less as he grew up. Actually Dean was growing up pushing his father's influence away, but Sam grew up being more and more the prisoner of it. Did he hate himself so much to let the monster win?

He knew that if Sam hadn't fall earlier it was only for him, but after he lost his courage and his strength he just couldn't do it anymore, so he let himself fall in the darkness of his soul and let Dean's hand go away with a smile… he was free now.

St Gerry Hall happened and the brick wall Dean built inside his head finally started to fall bit by bit, just because of one broken man. Dean felt a bit better and he realized maybe it wasn't his fault, Sam made his choice a long time ago. The only guilty persons were and would forever be their parents.

Maybe the people keeping their eyes shut around their distress were a bit guilty too… Their eyes were full of pity for them but they never moved to help them when they knew.

Sam probably felt like they all gave up on them and he had only Dean's hand to hold on to.

When he drove back to St Gerry it was night.

When he closed the door of his room behind him that night, he felt his heart empty and his soul heavy. He wanted nothing, he had no strength and no tears left. This epiphany drained him and at that moment he felt really lonely. He couldn't even hold on to his brother's memory anymore.

Mary was right: he was loving life but he just felt there was no reciprocity.

He took a very long shower and tried to wipe out the image of Sam with his throat cut under the water. He managed to do it and replaced it by Sam sitting next to him on his bed and listening to him singing or telling stories. The image of burnt innocence… and broken destinies.

When he got out of the shower he stayed a moment in front of the mirror completely naked. He wiped the steam and looked… placing his fingers on his scars. The one on his collar bone graved in his flesh was here because his father pushed him against the glass closet. He was holding him by the collar of his shirt and when he wanted to bring him back to him, a piece of glass cut his collar bone leaving a deep and long scar.

The scar under his belly button appeared when the wood stick broke on him and one of the parts got stuck in his stomach.

Each scar reminded him of this past he couldn't forget, he didn't want to forget either, it was a part of his life, a part of himself, of who he was today and who he would be in the future. They were him, Dean.

He turned around, still in front of the mirror, and saw the scars left by the belt of his dad on his back.

Then he turned, put his hands on the mirror and looked at himself in the eyes. Suddenly the green of his eyes melted with the blue of Castiel's ones and he knew behind this look he was screaming for help. Behind this look he was saying everything he could.

Dean slid against the bathroom's door and fell asleep just like that.

He jumped when he heard a voice calling him.

"Dean? Are you here? It's Melvin!" he called and knocked on the door.

He probably wanted his computer back.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He heard something fell on the floor while she was beating and yelling at him.

She came in the attic, furious, her face distorted by anger. He didn't know why but he figured it was his fault. What did he do? He didn't even see her since the day before when she curled up against him.

He never knew that beating was due to her own disgust, she just hated herself because she fell for his evil body. For her, he would forever be a sick soul she had to save from evil by any way. Of course she failed one more time.

She was always saying he had the blue eyes of a God, but the devil took possession of his flesh and she had to get him away. Her madness had no limits and if his eyes weren't so blue and beautiful she probably would've killed him already.

He was often close to the gates of hell, so close that if he closed his eyes and concentrate he could hear Cerberus screaming. She told him it was just the devil calling for him, and that's how the neighbor's dog became his worst nightmare.

When she stopped beating he dared extending his arm, reaching the tiny book that fell on the floor. She always had this around her neck.

When she came back on the evening the expression on her face was very cold. She searched for something on the floor holding her neck in her hand. She stared at him with an angry look but he stayed quiet and didn't move. After all those years, he learnt he just needed his eyes to talk. He wasn't talking and wasn't making any sound except when he was in unbearable pain or when she was stealing pleasure from his body.

At first she was furious because he wasn't talking. Sometimes when he was sleeping she could hear him babbling some words but even those ones disappeared after a while. He was just talking in his head… he was just living in his head. The outside world became nothing to him.

Standing on the tower that became his soul, he was observing himself like you observe a stranger. He separated his body and his soul.

She finally stood up and left, so he pulled his pillow up and touched the leather front cover of the book hidden under it, and suddenly the trapdoor opened again.

"I knew it!"

She almost ran on him and he quickly curled up against the wall hiding his face with his arms. She caught the book and put it on her chest.

"I forbid you to lay a hand on this book! You heard me you little piece of garbage?"

She didn't hit him, she just left without a word. He stayed in his position for a while and he looked at his pillow.

She came back a few minutes later holding the wood stick she loved so much. He looked up, she was making it bounce on her hand. God's punishment… she was whispering Old Testament's verses between her teeth.

It probably was her worst fit of anger, she was literally in a blind rage. She beat him up so long and so hard the wood stick broke, ripping half of his back skin. He passed out but even unconscious she was still hitting so hard blood splashed on her face and her dress.

Before passing out he heard her talking to God, asking for forgiveness and singing what sounded like an exorcism.

He only woke up the next morning unable to move, taste of blood in his mouth. He looked up at the shelf… Books…The only freedom he had. He was now completely locked.

She came back around midday and took care of him without a word and without caring about the fact he was hurting so bad he was moaning his pain out.

That torture night locked his attic forever. He became lifeless and she only found him lost in his silence with his empty eyes. He was staying in the same position all day, crouched down, curled up on his bed or leaning against the wall to stare at the skylight. He was moving only to go to the bathroom and to eat because she was forcing him to. He was washing himself only when she threatened him.

She had what she wanted: a puppet she could play with when she wanted. It took years but she finally did it: she completely broke him. The church book event was the end of his resistance and the beginning of her freedom. But he would not look at her again… ever. He would never let her sink into his blue eyes again.

As a result she stayed less and less with him and when she was here she was with someone else. She was not talking to him anymore and she was feeding him just because she needed him to survive, because God wanted to, but her toy lost its interest and so did her life.

She was going to church every day before this event, and after that she was going only on Sunday. She locked in her loneliness step by step too, she wasn't cleaning her house anymore, she wasn't taking care of herself anymore, and people even avoided her because her madness appeared on her face. She had scary eyes rolling when she was drowned in her mystic delirium.

Her death made no one cry, but the Attic Boy would forever make some people ashamed of themselves.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He looked at the book in the reflection of the window for hours. The door opened and Missouri appeared with a plate in her hands.

When she took the book after putting the plate on the table she saw Castiel shivering. She smiled and put it back.

"You come to eat, Castiel?"

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean didn't go to the refectory too early this morning, he wanted to avoid Mary. Not that he was mad at her but he just didn't want to talk about Sam or about himself… or about Castiel.

He dreamt about him last night: he saw him crouched down and when the floor suddenly opened under his feet he held him by his hand. He saw a smile on his face before he let his hand go, and Sam's face replaced Castiel's… and then he woke up in sweat.

He was thinking about that when he felt her presence.

"Good morning Missouri."

"Good morning Dean. May I?" she asked nodding at the sit in front of him.

Dean said nothing and she took that as a "yes".

"How are you doing? We haven't talked in a while."

"Probably because I have nothing to say." He said drinking his coffee.

"You're in a very good mood as I can see!" she laughed.

"I'm sorry." Dean sighed.

He was glancing at her while buttering his toast.

"Ok what?" he finally asked.

"The book in Castiel's room… is that you?"

He frowned.

"Why birds?" she asked.

"Why not?" he replied.

"More and more charming…" she wasn't laughing anymore.

She put her toast in her hot chocolate and stayed quiet.

"And?" Dean asked.

"And what?"

Dean sighed deeply "Missouri…"

"Well there's nothing to add." She said and saw disappointment on his face.

"I should've known it." Dean said.

"Know what, Dean?"

"Nothing. It won't matter anymore anyway."

He finished his coffee.

"Next Monday I'll be back in the West quarter and in six months I'll be gone."

Melvin entered and waved at him so he waved back.

"You're not very convincing, darling." Missouri said.

He pushed his plate away.

"I have nothing to offer to him. He's nuts and I probably am as much as he is. It won't bring anything good and Mary…" he paused.

"What about Mary?" Missouri frowned.

"I asked her if I could stay working in the East quarter for the next six months but she said no. She's afraid of what could happen after my job here is over"

He stood up. Missouri looked at him.

"She's right… I don't even know what my life will be tomorrow so in six months…" he took his plate "and I don't need this now. He probably doesn't either."

"You don't need what, Dean? Getting attached to him? You will sooner or later you know, if it's not with Castiel it will be with someone else, but human being is not made to be alone."

"I am."

"Oh right and you look so happy about it!" she joked.

"I can't complain."

"But people around you can for sure!"

He looked vexed and stepped away.

"Bye!"

Missouri looked at him leaving and looked at the clock: 7:35 am. She stood up and left leaving her plate on the table.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean was nervous thinking he would have to deal with Castiel. He knew tomorrow it would be over and he already knew he would miss it. And he knew he would also miss those damn blue eyes haunting him.

He cleaned each room like a robot, he even forgot to greet the few patients he met. He didn't want to talk or to sing. Then he cleaned the day room feeling Garth's look on him. When he was over and wanted to leave, he called him.

"Hi, Dean!"

"Hi."

"Armand gave you the planning?"

"Yeah, thank you." He said trying to step away, but Garth was blocking the way.

"What are you doing? I have no time to play! I still have work to do."

"I was in charge of breakfasts this morning."

"Right. Good for you."

He tried to leave again because he knew where Garth wanted to go with this.

"He stared at it, but it looks like he's scared to touch it."

"Garth…" Dean sighed.

Garth stepped away letting Dean free to go.

"Thank you." He said opening the door.

"I think you're the one who has to do the first move!"

Dean didn't answer, closed the door and left.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He hesitated in front of room 14 and finally looked inside.

"A real statue." He said typing the code.

He felt nervousness growing when he stepped in.

"Hi, Cas." He tried to sound as casual as he could.

He saw him reacting and went to the bathroom to avoid him. He glanced at the table and saw the book on it.

He felt his silent call again, as he was cleaning the bathroom, and he finally turned around seeing he was here looking at him. He was just here observing Dean cleaning the room. There was no distress, no pain and no fear, just something they shared, and Dean couldn't help but smiled.

"You don't look so bad today." He said standing up.

Castiel stepped back a little but didn't break the eyes connection.

"You don't like my gift?" Dean asked looking at the table.

He noticed Castiel's body tensing but he was still looking at him. Dean pushed his cart to the room, Castiel stepped back and went to his precious window but he was still facing him, observing every move he made which made Dean feel uncomfortable. He thought he preferred when Castiel wasn't staring at him like that.

He cleaned the floor and when he was done Castiel was back in his usual position near the window. It was almost a relief.

"Dude you really don't know what you want" he shrugged.

He took his cleaning spray, his rag, he walked to the table and then, without knowing exactly why, he sat down and took the book. He saw Castiel moving, he was observing him in the window's reflection.

"Come here." Dean said showing the chair.

Castiel didn't move. Dean made himself comfortable in front of that empty chair.

"Cas, please… come and sit down on the chair. Come on…" he insisted in a soft voice.

He knew Castiel was hesitant he met his eyes on the reflection.

"I'm still here today and I will be here tomorrow… and then I won't be able to come anymore. You understand what it means right?"

Castiel turned a bit.

"It's just a book dude… nothing more. It won't eat you." He said begging him with his eyes "come here and sit down."

He finally accepted the offer and sat down on the chair facing Dean, but of course he was looking at the window.

Dean put the book on the table.

"It's for you. Open it."

Dean insisted sliding it near Castiel who was still not moving or looking.

Dean lost his patience and tried the impossible: he extended his hand very slowly and placed a finger under his chin. Castiel jumped and turned quickly looking at Dean with his eyes full of terror, and he gripped his pants.

Dean didn't want to give up even if it was hard, he didn't move his finger away and lifted his head a little. He smiled at him and tried to reassure him when he felt he was sinking in his chair ready to run away.

"Calm down Cas… it's just me."

He didn't know how much time they stayed like that looking at each other but he didn't care, he just wanted Castiel to react. Slowly he felt him getting more relaxed and the terror in his eyes turned into suspicion only.

Dean took the book and held it out to Castiel.

"This book is for you, Cas. I thought about it when I saw your drawings on the wall… there." He confessed and looked down a few seconds.

"Humor me… take it."

He only read confusion in his eyes.

"Take it."

His patience was tested here: Castiel didn't want to move, but it was already a big step he just did, accepting this close contact with Dean who started to wonder if he didn't ask too much from him. Too much and too fast maybe… but he had so little time!

"Ok…" he said disappointed.

He put the book in front of Castiel and stood up. Castiel was still frozen in his chair.

Dean walked away and put his spray and his rag in the cart.

"I'll try to stay longer tomorrow of you want…"

He heard the noise of the chair moving and froze. When he found the courage, he turned around and saw Castiel was standing at the window and the book was still on the table.

Dean sighed.

"As you wish…" he said going to the door.

He walked out of the room and didn't look back.

Tomorrow would be their last day.

End of chapter 10


	11. The decision

**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to "Book Genius"**

**For your support, to follow this story, for your reviews…To be there….**

**Thank you to follow this fic…**

**CHAPTER 11: THE DECISION**

His hands crossed behind his neck, lying on his bed, Dean was staring at the ceiling… he couldn't sleep. He looked at his nightstand and sighed. A second later he was sitting in his bed, leaning on his elbows with his head in his hand.

It all depended on him now… It was his decision.

He suddenly doubted about what was so obvious a few days ago.

Missouri entered room 14 to serve breakfast. The subtle lemon smell in it let her know Dean was here a few minutes ago. She smiled and looked at Castiel who was still standing near the window as always.

She put the plate on the table and noticed the book was gone. She looked quickly around her in the room but didn't find it… it was really gone. She looked at the window's reflection but Castiel wasn't looking so she sat, a little sad and disappointed.

"One simple move could have changed something, you know…" she whispered.

He didn't react.

"Come here and eat, Castiel." She said trying to cover up the disappointment in her voice in vain.

During all the time he ate, he didn't look at her once. She thought about it and noticed she had no particular contact with Cas since…

She frowned and leaned her head on the wall facing Castiel.

"… since he's in charge of East quarter and he's taking care of you…" she thought out loud.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean sat on the front steps as he liked to do after all his shifts. It was a good way for him to evacuate the stress. He found coffee when he walked by the kitchen, smiling at Suzanne who was there reading a magazine and drinking her tea. She had no time to reply that he was already gone.

He ran into Missouri in the lobby.

"Dean can I talk to you a few minutes?"

He sighed but stopped to listen what she had to say.

"What?"

"Did something go wrong with Castiel this morning?" she asked noticing Dean's bad mood.

He tilted his head and looked up to her.

"…Pardon?" he said surprised.

"The book… you took it back from him, right? Why? What happened? I need to know, nothing personal but we all need to understand his reactions if we want to help and…"

"I did not take anything back." He interrupted her harshly. "When I give something I never take it back even if the one I give it to seems to don't give a shit about it."

Dean thought he saw a tiny smile on Missouri's face at that moment.

"Except you and me, nobody came in his room."

"Yes so?"

She looked at him in the eyes.

"It means it's him…"

"Or a nurse passing by." Dean objected, not wanting to feel any hope.

"I asked everyone… Armand just checked the room by the window, nothing more."

"Well… at least now you know what gift you'll buy him for Christmas." Dean said ironically.

He stepped away and let Missouri here, completely dazed.

Dean wanted to scream his happiness and his frustration at the same time. He was so close and tomorrow it would be over!

His eyes on his coffee, he jumped when his phone rang… Gaby.

He put his mug on the stair and stood up to take the call.

"Hey Gab!"

"Hi Dean! Still content in the crazy hospital?" he joked.

"I'm ok." Dean replied without playing his game.

"I have the time of the fight and I know who your opponent is. You wanna know?"

"Should I?" he smiled.

"Billy Joe."

"The one-eyed Billy Joe?"

"Yep, himself! Back after five months out, he must be in pretty good shape you'll have to be careful!"

Dean was staring at the third floor without even noticing it.

"Dean? Are you still here? Have you heard what I said?"

"I heard, Gab."

"And that's all?"

"Well I'm not the one who blinded him one eye right?"

"Sure, not really… but the guy in the audience wouldn't have if you haven't made him lose 5000$ winning against him. He could be pissed at you and bite for that."

"I'll have to bite harder then. And I'll pray for him to not turn completely blind."

He heard Gaby laughing on the phone.

"That's my Rage! But still… be careful, he's bigger now. I heard he trained and now he breaks men like you'd break wood."

"Good for him. Where will we fight?"

"In an abandoned motel, four hours from here."

"Damn! Four hours?" he complained.

"Meet me at my apartment and we'll drive you ok? You can sleep in the car that way."

"Good. Have you thought about my little favor?"

"Yeah Melvin is on the list don't worry. I'll email you the address, you can give it to him. It will start at 9 pm."

"Ok. Thank you Gab."

"I'll wait for you at 2 pm is that ok for you?"

"Yes. I have nothing planned anyway."

"See you tomorrow then."

"See ya Gab."

"Bye… and take care of yourself." Then he hung up.

Dean stayed here with his phone in his hands, still looking at the third floor. He couldn't see Castiel but he knew he was at the window observing him.

After a few seconds he put his phone back in his pocket and sat back on the stair with his coffee. He needed to clear his head if he wanted to be ready for tomorrow. Billy Joe was a very serious opponent and Gaby was right about one thing: he would be mad at him even if he wasn't directly responsible for the loss of his eye. He had five months to ponder his revenge and Dean had to admit he lost a bit of that rage he used to fight in the Cage.

When he let Sam go he lost a part of his dad's influence and the rage was gone with it. He needed to find something else to get it back. It was just sleeping inside him and he needed it to win.

He felt someone's presence behind him.

"I don't want to talk now, Missouri."

"Talk about what, Dean?"

He turned around surprised, Mary was looking at him tenderly. He stood up.

"Mary?" he said a bit suspicious.

"Can I talk to you? It won't be long."

"Man this is the talking day…" Dean joked sitting back.

She gripped her skirt and sat with him.

"I've been thinking a lot about our last talk."

He took a sip of his coffee, staring at his Impala parked in the alley. When she noticed he would stay quiet she searched her pocket and got a badge out of it, turning it nervously between her fingers.

"Let's make a deal, Dean… you take it or you leave it."

"I don't…"

"Wait for me to explain at least!" she interrupted him. "What I'm about to do is totally the opposite I should do, it goes against all my principles. I don't know where it will lead but Missouri is right: Castiel deserve a chance, even if it's a tiny one. I love him very much, as I love a lot of my patients here. In his eyes you can see…"

She couldn't find the right words and stared at the badge to regain her composure.

"… the physical abuse and more… the psychological abuse led him to a whole new word he created. It helped him surviving all those years of hell, but it also made him totally unable to deal with reality."

She pulled a hair lock away on her back.

"Except Missouri, nobody here succeeded at getting reactions from him, and he never accepted any contact… until you arrived in his life."

She sighed deeply. He turned to look at her and met her eyes.

"You did in a few days what Missouri did in months: you made him conscious of the real word. He observes you for hours… and he probably is right now. He looks at you and he sees you, and more important: you saw the human being first, not the patient… you just see him as he is. I think our mistake with such a critical case, this mystery he was and still is, was to forget to look at him beyond the madness he reflects. I have to admit it was my fault first."

She looked away and stared at the badge.

"You managed to touch him with your heavy past reflecting on your face… or should I say you both managed to."

Dean smiled.

"I have something to propose and I want you to think about it before you give me an answer."

He interrogated her with his eyes.

"This is a visitor badge. You'll have to show it each time you'll go to the East quarter, and the nurse in charge will give you or not the authorization to enter."

She saw Dean's hands gripping his mug tighter.

"Visits are planned every day of the week between 3 pm and 5 pm, and the weekend between 3 pm and 6.30 pm. You'll have to choose three or four random days a week and you won't say which ones to Castiel. He will know you'll come but he won't know when exactly."

Dean stayed quiet.

"You'll have to inform me personally, or through Garth or Missouri, about every significant change in Castiel's behavior."

She saw Dean tensing.

"Are you asking me to spy on him?"

"This is a psychiatric hospital, Dean. We're here to cure people in case you didn't notice. I'm not asking you to spy on him as you say, nor to report everything you share, that's not my point and this is private. But you have to understand your connection with him is the only chance we have to try to get him out of the silence and the pain he's locked in."

Dean stood up and put his coffee on the stair. He walked a few steps and stopped turning his back to her.

"If I understand well, you're giving me the authorization to see him but under some conditions?"

"Yes. Take it or leave it as I said before."

"I can't accept this… I would feel like I betray him, he will notice it and he will be locked forever. Thank you but no. I would end this today rather than risking losing him forever, because as you said, I see him as a human being."

He turned to face her.

"What you're asking me to do now is not human."

She stood up with an unreadable expression on her face.

"He's suffering, Dean… and we can't do anything to help. You think it's more human to leave him in his pain like that?"

"This was what you thought yesterday right?" Dean said harshly "You're the one who said he was better alone than with a guy like me who could abandon him in six months… you're the one who didn't trust us!" Dean almost screamed.

"Us?" Mary pointed out.

Dean froze.

"We have to be at least two people to make it and win this… this is what this connection is all about, but you can't understand that, you don't know what it is to suffer and to be alone, to have nobody to talk about it. You don't know what it is to live hell and to wish for heaven. Your eyes betray you, they're shining with happiness. People don't see because they don't want to see. People know but they stay quiet. That detachment killed my brother but I won't let it kill Cas you hear me? If I betray him he will die and I can't survive knowing this!" Dean yelled.

A long and heavy silence settled.

"It is precisely because I don't want to be a part of this detachment that I'm asking for your help, Dean."

She stood up and handed him the badge.

"I'll keep my conditions. Take time to think about it. Don't answer now being angry, we'll talk about it next Monday. If you're not decided on Monday, just know I'll keep my proposition open, but if you don't make a choice the badge won't be necessary."

He was standing here refusing to take the badge. She put it on the first step.

"Think about him before you think about both of you."

She climbed the last stairs and disappeared inside. Dean stayed a few minutes not moving, trying to take control of his emotions. He finally stepped forward, took the badge and read it: "Visitor: Winchester; Dean. Delivered by Dr Mary Campbell."

He put it in his back jean's pocket, took his coffee and looked up to the third floor. He smiled and came back inside.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean left without a look. Castiel turned around and touched his chin with his fingertips. He looked at the table and the book on it.

"This is for you, Castiel." The words resonated in his head.

He stepped forward and sat down, hands on his knees. He stared at the cover… some birds' flight shadow on the moon. He tilted his head, lifted his hand near the table and stopped when it was at the edge of it. He put his fingers on it and didn't dare moving further.

He remembered the beating, the pain and the screams. It was louder than his inner voice telling him to touch it. He looked at the door: nobody.

He slowly and carefully slid his fingers on the table until they were touching the book cover. He laid his hand on it and closed his eyes caressing it slowly with his thumb.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

The skylight and the birds flying above his prison… freedom. He was flying with them in the huge blue shy, closing his eyes and listening to their singing. They were leaving every autumn, and were coming back every spring, one other reason to like these seasons even more.

Only a few chickadees and blackbirds were faithful to his loneliness.

One morning he was woken up by a high scream. Lying on the floor in his old blanket full of holes, he looked around and saw it: a baby bird. He probably fell from his nest. Chickadees were living in his kingdom, he was hearing them singing, fighting or flying but he never saw them. They were living in the same prison, but not on the same side of the gate.

He crawled and put his face on his hands, observing the tiny featherless creature struggling on the floor. He noticed it was bleeding and its screams were weaker and weaker… he was dying because of the fall. He looked at it in the eyes when it died, he came closer and covered it with his hand in a protective reflex. He wanted to guide him toward death.

She arrived in the attic and saw him on the floor. She put the breakfast on the table and his body tensed.

"What the…"

She came closer and crushed the tiny bird under her foot. He shut his eyes tight, horrified in front on the bird's splashed body sticking at her shoe.

"Don't you dare do that again. You hear me?"

She crouched down and lifted his chin.

"Those creatures steal souls… stay away from them!" she said in a soft tone but he perceived her anger anyway.

She stood up, took the napkin in the plate and wrapped the bird in it before putting it in her apron's pocket.

"Come to eat now. Come on get up!" she ordered.

He looked at her apron the whole time, picturing the lifeless crunched body in the pocket.

"Soul thieves…" he smiled internally. He found the way to escape hell.

He adored those creatures as they were the symbol of freedom. He was closing his eyes and put his soul on their wings for them to fly away with it.

This was what saved him. He didn't need to go out of that attic, they were protecting him from the outside world. She and her companion were the only images he had from the real world. He was free inside those walls in his own way.

But since a few months, since he saw a bit of the outside world through this man's eyes, the noises, the smell, those walls started to fall down piece by piece. Another form of fear came inside him: the fear of the unknown.

The hospital was another prison to him. He was tied to the bed as he was in his attic, trapped in the nurse's look that was blinding him with her weird tool. He lived it as a whole new hell, maybe worse than the previous one because he couldn't find his place. In this world he may not have any place at all…

The doctors observed him like he was a mystery. He found in their look the same interest he had when he was observing spiders building their webs. They were admiring the web forgetting there was a tiny insect trapped in it.

And then she arrived with her long hair falling on her shoulders. He felt her staring at him but refused to meet her eyes. She was looking at the trapped insect… the hurt creature.

Since that day she wouldn't stop trying to free him from the web around him, but he was feeling protected in his web even if it was painful. He knew his prison so well, he knew every detail of it. He built it for years and didn't want to destroy it to be trapped in another unknown one.

But he caught that weird black skinned woman's eyes even if she was scary the first time he saw her. She almost looked like the devil he saw in one of her books. Missouri smiled and he let go, he was feeling things deeper than anyone else. He knew she was the hidden side of the outside world.

He let his eyes looking at her… it was a very particular look, and it was a way for him to say "I'm alive" behind his walls. He was still hiding though.

And then Dean arrived and something in him broke. Since their first look he knew Dean had found the key to his prison, but the walls were so high and so strong! He didn't know how to go out, and he didn't even know if he wanted to.

The outside world… the unknown… and that woman watching the door even if she was dead. Would he know how to get rid of her? And outside… would it look like the blue sky of his prison or would it look like the trapdoor of his hell?

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He looked down at the book. He knew when he opened it he was crossing a line, stepping in the unknown. His whole body was shaking and he felt something wet in his pants. He was nauseous and dizzy… he was just full of terror.

He saw a picture of a black bird, his feathers reflecting the moon light. Castiel opened the book and fate brought him a crow, messenger of Gods and souls keeper… a place between hell and earth.

His face lightened and he felt a strange warmth in his eyes: a single tear fell down his cheek. He was staring at the bird which was staring back at him.

He suddenly closed the book, he was losing control. He tilted his head and started swaying.

A crack appeared on one of his walls… a nameless pain. He stood up and hid the book under his pillow. He walked toward the window and saw him, meeting his gaze. He observed him… and her. He stole his smile and crouched down to lean against the wall, his head in his knees.

He slept in his bed that night, holding the book from under his pillow. He dreamt about a birds' flight near the moon, and about a green eyed crow.

Dean took the badge in his hand… he wouldn't betray him… not like that.

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

He ate half of his breakfast, he had a knot in his stomach. He hadn't slept all night even after his decision was made. He wasn't free, he was nervous because this decision, they would both make it.

He climbed the stairs to the third floor for the last time with his cart. Phil would come back on Monday and Dean wondered why he couldn't work on the weekend too. At least he would have one more day in the East quarter, to see Liliana one last time, to make his excuses a hundredth time to Charles who was still running from him like he had plague, to avoid Edward as well as he always did after their one and only meeting, and to be with Castiel one last time because after that he probably wouldn't see him anymore.

He sighed opening the first gate and started his last shift. He took time to say goodbye to every patients he met. He checked at the schedule to see who would be present in the room this time… except for Edward who painted all his room's walls with poop. Nice end for a week!

He sang for everyone that day, some blues songs in a desperate way hanging to his last hope.

When he arrived in front of room 14 he took the badge Mary gave him out of his pocket, looked at the small window and smiled between sadness and tenderness. He put it back in his pocket and typed the code to enter.

"Hi Cas!"

He didn't react but Dean didn't care. He walked in the bathroom and cleaned quickly to not lose any time. When he turned around after he was finished, Castiel was not here. He looked in the room and noticed he hadn't moved from the window. He felt sad and stepped in the room looking at the window's reflection but Castiel seemed to be somewhere else. Did he have to do that on their last day together?

He quickly cleaned the room's floor and when he was done he stepped toward Castiel to lean near the window next to him. He looked at the same direction he was staring at… nothing.

A long moment of silence settled. There was absolutely no noise except the sound of their breathing. Then Dean broke it:

"Cas I need to talk to you. I don't know if you'll understand but… I have no other option. I need to know."

He looked at Castiel who was now staring down at the window's edge. He took the badge out and showed it to him.

"This is a badge I should use to come to see you. Mary gave it to me and she said I could visit you… you understand?" he asked softly still facing him.

"I will be able to come back here" he said pointing the place with his finger.

"But there is a condition…" he looked outside "I would have to betray us…" he whispered.

"She wants to help you like everyone else here. She knows…" he searched for the right words "She knows about our… connection."

He laughed inside… it sounded so awkward, but he needed simple words to make Castiel understand what he was asking. Has he ever taken a single decision in his life? That wasn't certain.

He showed the badge again.

"With this I can come to see you but I will have to tell her how you're doing and I will have to tell her all about our visits, do you understand what I mean? I don't want you to think I will come only for that… I will come only for you, because I want to see you, because I like your silences more than words, and because we have something… different. But I need you to let me know you're ok with it, Cas."

He begged him with his eyes.

"You need to do something… I need it… I need to know. We have to take this decision together, you understand?" he insisted, but Castiel didn't react.

"Shit, Cas! You're not making things easier, you know that?"

He stepped away and arranged his cart.

"Ok… as you want. I'm going to give the badge back to Mary." He said in a broken voice. He was sad, disappointed and angry at them.

He had not enough time, how could Castiel possibly understand what was going on? Did he get Dean wouldn't come back anymore? How to communicate with someone so closed for so long? He could read things in his looks, but not everything!

He needed more time to find a way to communicate but they didn't give them any opportunity to find it. All of this had been such a waste of time! He clenched his cart tight to avoid screaming his frustration.

He was about to leave when he heard Castiel move. He hesitated to turn around, and when he did Castiel was not here as he wished. He caught sight of his shadow near the bed and looked: he was holding the book in his hand.

Castiel slowly looked up to find Dean's eyes.

"Damn it Cas…" he felt tears in his eyes.

He felt distress in Dean's voice. He was always feeling people's pain. He observed Dean without him to notice because he was staring at his badge. It looked like the ones on Missouri and Garth's jacket, except it wasn't the same color.

He was using simple words, Castiel knew that, but he couldn't understand… what did "decision" mean?

"Together"… he knew that word's meaning… Dean and him.

"Betray"… whatever that word meant he didn't like the negativity he felt in Dean's voice when he pronounced it.

He understood he was about to leave too, and he had to hold him back but didn't know how and then… the book!

He went to his bed and lifted his pillow hoping he would understand, because he didn't know how to say it with words anymore. He couldn't show what he felt either because he didn't even understand all of these new emotions.

The book…

He looked up to meet Dean's eyes… he understood.

Castiel screamed his "Don't leave me!" with just a move but it meant more than words.

Dean rubbed his neck nervously trying to hold his tears back.

"Good." That's all he managed to say. One more word and he would let go.

"See you on Monday then?" he said smiling.

Castiel tilted his head.

"See you soon" he said remembering Mary's advice on his visit's days… don't tell him, don't leave him in certitude but in expectation, to not disappoint him when he couldn't come. But did Castiel have notion of days or time?

He smiled.

"Bye Cas."

Dean understood and would not leave him.

He wouldn't be alone anymore… one more crack in his wall and he saw the light of his eyes through it. Castiel wanted to smile but he wouldn't dare… he forgot how to do it anyway, it's been a while since he smiled and he never did it much.

Fear was still too big and was taking too much place, almost all of the place.

Dean left but took his time. He gave him one last look for today, Castiel was still standing at the same spot, the book in his hands, looking to the future.

He closed the door and leaned against it. The decision was made and Castiel made it for him… for them.

He turned and looked inside. Castiel was still here but his look was empty. He was gone again.

End of chapter XI

**Thank you to have read this chapter**

**Hope to see you Saturday for the next one….**


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